Tales of the Dragonborn
by Kurlan Aank
Summary: AU: A Nord with no memory of her past awakens in a prison cell with an unknown destiny. The land of Skyrim is in turmoil. Civil war rages through the land and sides have been drawn. Deep in the barrows, the undead slowly begin to stir as a dark shadow slowly emerges across the land...
1. Awakening

Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim.

AN: Hello readers and welcome to a new piece of fanfiction I have recently decided to start writing. This idea comes from a bit of inspiration from Zaric Zhakaron from YouTube who made a video titled, 'What if Skyrim was Good?' I recommend watching it just to get a baseline for this tale, but since it is a piece of fanfiction, I have decided to ad my own twist and turns to it, just to see how I can mash Zaric's ideas and my own into this. Now, this first chapter most likely will be familiar to those who have read 'The Last Dragonborn' by Gothic-Diamond which with the author's permission I have decided to begin my own tale and hopefully, this chapter will differ from that piece. Now onto the story!

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Chapter One

Awakening

 _Darkness_ , that was all she knew, it was all she remembered. It encompassed all, any sights or sounds there might have been were covered in darkness. There was nothing else, no memory or sense of time.

 _Am I dead_ , the thought echoed through the void. _I do not think so_ … _but could I remember if I was alive at some point_? The darkness had no answer for her.

Confusion raged through her head as thousands of thoughts drifted through her head. The sensation was unfamiliar to her. Briefly, she wondered if she had ever felt like this before and tried to find another instance in which she felt the emotion. Her mind came up blank.

 _Who am I_? the thought flashed into existence a moment later. Since her memory was not there… what exactly was she? Did she have a name? Friends and family? _Am I a hero_ , _a law abiding citizen or a villain_? The thought of her identity plagued her. The only thing she knew about herself was that she was in the body of a fully grown woman.

As that sense of self passed through her, her sense began to awaken. The sound of metal dancing on metal echoed through her ears and the sound was familiar to her. A thin, reedy voice accompanied the sound:

'I've almost got them off.'

A thought occurred to her. She wanted to know who and what just made that noise and slowly she forced her eyes to open, and frowned as she stared at the grim stone floor. She shut them again and groaned in discomfort as she a sharp pain lanced through the back of her skull and her eyes snapped shut. She took a breath to calm and center herself and opened her eyes once again. The pain in her skull was a dull throb, but this time she could focus.

The stone greeted her once again, but this time, she turned her head and looked around her. The first thing that reached her sight was a large blond haired man. A Nord who stared at her in concern and in front of him was a frightened, dirty looking man, also a Nord, and several others.

All of them were dressed in dirty rags and foot wraps, hands bound behind them with iron manacles. The only ones without iron shackles were the dirty one and blonde one.

Looking around her again, she could see that they were in a large jail cell.

The blonde Nord approached her slowly. Behind him, the dirty man moved to another Nord, this one a woman and began to work at her manacles as well. As his hands worked swiftly and she wondered if he was a thief.

'Hey,' he said, drawing her attention. 'I'm Ralof of Riverwood. You were unlucky to get caught up in this mess, kinsman.' That word made her frown.

'Kinsman? Are we related?' she questioned. Ralof looked taken aback at that and shook his head firmly.

'Afraid not, kinsman.' His face became wary for a moment. 'You are a Nord? Right?'

She frowned and looked down in thought. Was she a Nord? Tall, fair haired warriors that hailed from the providence of Skyrim? 'I think so… I can't remember.'

'That strike to the head must have done more damage than we thought.' Ralof mused. The man continued to examine her carefully, and she wondered what he saw. She wished she had a mirror or a puddle of water to look into. She wondered how she looked herself. Whatever Ralof saw, he seemed to approve of.

'Wait!' A sudden hush filled the cell. Ralof looked back, his whole body tensing. 'The guards are coming.' The unshackled Nords quickly hide their arms behind their back and a few of the larger ones moved in front of the free captives. She heard the sound of a door unlocking and the heavy footsteps of armored boots.

Rounding the corner were three men. Two were clad in heavy mail with the Imperial dragon on the breastplate of their armor. Between them was another prisoner and she found her eyes drawn to him swiftly.

He was clad in prisoner rags just like them, but that's where all similarities ended. His face was hidden beneath a faceless iron helmet and the man's massive, broad shoulders held a pole along his shoulders. His arms were attached to the pole with heavy manacles.

The Nord prisoners moved closer to the cell walls and began to speak among themselves.

'It's him!'

'They haven't slain him yet?'

'I wonder where they're taking him.'

The questions continued for a moment before the dirty looking man spoke up. 'Who's that and why is he wearing that!?'

'That's Ulfric Stormcloak!'

A look of puzzlement crossed the thief's face. 'Leader of the Stormcloaks?'

'Aye, but that's not all he is! He's the true High King of Skyrim and heir to the Empire of Tamriel!' Ralof's voice carried among the prisoners. She moved closer, a small frown crossing her own face as she peered at the man in interest.

The thief frowned. 'What? He doesn't look like any Imperial to me.'

'Not that Empire!' A voice rang out from the prisoners. 'They say Ulfric has the dragon blood running through his veins!'

'I thought the Septims were all wiped out?'

'That's Uriel Septim's line, boy! You remember the tales of old Tiber Septim who used to be Talos of Atmora, Jarl Ulfric is from that line! A true Nord!'

If the man in question heard any of this, he kept quiet and the door banged shut behind him a moment later.

She frowned as she processed all of this information. The men and women around her were Stormcloaks, a group of rebels that did not like the current rule from an Empire? From the way it sounded, he had a claim to the throne as well.

If such a thing were true, she wondered who sat on the throne currently? If the prisoners were right, this Ulfric was a branch family and had a stronger claim to it than the current Emperor of Tamriel who sat on the throne.

She shook her head slowly. All of this information would have to be processed at a later date, if she could somehow get out of this mess. She still wondered how she was a prisoner in this?

She heard the sound of more footsteps. Outside in the hallway the door was thrown open once again and a line of Imperial soldiers stepped through.

'Away from the door, prisoners! Try anything funny, and you'll get a blade for your trouble.' The prisoners backed away and the lead soldier unlocked the gate. The door groaned open and she found herself with the others as the men led them away at spear and sword point.

She was pushed in between the three freed prisoners who kept their hands behind their backs. The Imperial soldiers showed no signs of them knowing that they were free and began to escort them outside.

She stared at the dark walls as she found herself following the line of prisoners, heading up a set of stairs and found themselves outside of the fort and in a large courtyard. A raised platform sat in the middle of the courtyard, elevated onto a platform with a chopping block nearby. Two soldiers stood at the base of the block and standing next to the block was a hooded executioner, holding a deadly looking executioner axe.

The officers, one male and one female, both wore the familiar uniform of the Imperial legion she had come to expect, with the exception of theirs being more ornamental than the others to signify their higher rank. The uniforms were heavy steel plate-mail, a dragon symbol on their belts, heavy shields with the dragon symbol on them, ornament swords, steel helmets with a bigger crest and maroon capes with fur linings.

The man's helmet and shield currently off, sitting on a wooden desk next to him, revealing his chestnut shoulder length hair and he held a piece of parchment and quill in his hands. As they approached, he saw down next to the desk, staring at them with dark blue eyes.

As his eyes fell on hers, he frowned and held up his hand. 'You, there! Hold!' She froze, unsure on what was happening. An Imperial soldier grasped her arm and pulled her away from the others and stood her in front of the soldier. He looked back and forth between her and the list, a frown slowly crossing his face.

'What's the problem, Hadvar?' the woman next to him scowled at the man next to her.

'I've seen the prisoners daily and have listed them all with a base description. This woman is not on the list. Where are you from, prisoner?'

She frowned. 'I'm not sure.'

'Is this some sort of jest?' The woman questioned.

She shook her head slowly. 'I can't remember.'

The woman scoffed. 'A likely story. Send her to the block anyways.'

Hadvar ignored her, peering at her carefully, and his frown deepened. His eyes moved towards the captain. 'General Tullius' orders. We need to secure relations with Whiterun. Executing an innocent could sour our relationship. If anyone wonders why this prisoner has not been executed this day, I will take the blame.' His eyes traveled to the guard. 'Take her back to the cell. Seems the gods favor you today, prisoner.'

And just like that, she was not going to be executed. She sighed in relief, her shoulders slumping as an unknown weight left her shoulders. As the guard marched her back towards the fort, she found Ralof's eyes in the crowd of prisoners. A sad smile was on the man's face and he inclined his head in her direction.

Her eyes traveled upward as a massive beast appeared from the clouds. Large, bat-like wings flapped in the sky and the monster from legends landed on top of a watch tower that sat adjacent to the courtyard.

Its scales were a red-orange color, the detached wings were spread out and blocked out the sun. It's forearms and legs caused the stone beneath it to groan from its massive bulk. Large bony, ridges stuck out from its head, back and tail as dark as the stone beneath it. Its head was crowned by a row of horns that curved back against its head. Yellow serpentine eyes locked onto her own and its lips pulled back, revealing a row of sharp teeth the size of swords.

'What in Oblivion is that?!' She could dimly hear a voice shout out. She was unsure who said it and at the moment, she could not find herself to care.

'Dragon!' Someone screamed, and the creature's maw opened. From its throat issued three words that shook Nirn. A shock-wave of power burst from its throat and sent the executioner and the line of prisoners and Imperial soldiers scattering around like rag-dolls.

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AN: So everyone? How was it? Like it, hate it? Want more, or a bit less? I know, probably one of the most different things is the portray of dragons and that's simply my own taste. I love dragons with six limbs instead of the attached wings like Skyrims own and hope that this little part isn't too much of a difference. I'm not sure exactly if the ones with their wings attached will make an appearance since I do like a bit of variety, but who knows so far. Cheers! And hope to see you all in the next chapter.


	2. Escaping Helgen

Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim.

Chapter Two

Escaping Helgen

The dragon spewed flames from its mouth. The unfortunate Imperial soldiers and Stormcloaks were caught in the blaze from the wyrm and screamed as the fire ran across their skin. Eyes popped, or melted in their sockets as the heat from the flames engulfed them, cooking them alive. Skin ran like wax from their skin and blackened corpses replaced them.

'Don't just stand around, fools! Kill that thing!' A voice shouted out. In reply, the dragon brought its gaze back among them and roared. A shock wave of force erupted from its maw and crashed into the line of prisoners. They were slammed aside with crushing force, scattering around the courtyard and crashing to the ground.

She watched this all, her heart thudding in her ears.

'Someone warn the villagers! Tell the garrison to get everyone to safety!' An Imperial soldier shouted above the panic that had settled along everyone.

'Kinsman! This way!' Ralof and Lokir were crouched low as the dragon took wing above their heads. The massive monster crushed the watchtower beneath its bulk, sending the building crashing into the middle of the street. 'The Gods won't give us another chance!'

She immediately ran in his direction. The courtyard was in a state of chaos. The prisoners, Imperial legionaries, and villagers were pushing others out of their ways to escape the fury of the monster above them. The dragon breathed a line of flames as it winged above them. Thankfully, she had managed to reach Ralof and Lokir by then and the men quickly darted away.

She followed after them closely as the city burned around them.

Villagers tried to impede their progress, but most avoided the prisoners like a deadly illness. Ralof and Lokir had to push a few aside to get to their destination, another watchtower at the far end of the courtyard that was connected to the keep. Ralof and Lokir reached the door first and Valeka followed after a moment.

The interior of the tower held a few weapon racks and cupboards along the wall and four figures stood in the main chamber. Hadvar and the imperial soldier from earlier were there along with the bound man from before. Hadvar hovered over his companion, looking over a rather large head wound on the woman. She felt satisfaction rise inside of her, the sight of the wounded woman making the corners of her lips twitch. Ulfric Stormcloak was still in chains and Ralof approached him slowly, Lokir standing off to the side, looking between the pair of them.

'Are you alright, Jarl Ulfric?' Ralof questioned. The bound man inclined his head, a muffled grunt escaping his lips. Ralof let a smile of relief cross his face. 'Quickly, kinsman! Grab an axe over there and help me with his bindings. The Nord had a war axe in his own hand already, raised and ready to free the man.

'Ralof, are you insane?!' Hadvar looked up from his companion. 'We have to get out of here! Freeing him will take time we do not have! Leave him and stay close to me, prisoners, if you want to live!' Hadvar reached down and wrapped the woman's arm over his shoulders and lifted her to her feet, his hand wrapping around her studded belt. Valeka moved over to the weapon rack, pulling off an iron axe just like Ralof's. She looked between both of them, wondering who to choose.

'We're escaping this day Hadvar! You won't stop us this time!' Ralof retorted, his axe making quick work of the pole.

'I hope the dragon takes you all to Oblivion!' The man barked out before he began to drag the woman outside. Valeka felt the world freeze for her in that moment. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts. Help free Ulfric Stormcloak, Leader of the Stormcloaks, or follow after Hadvar and escape with him? Surprisingly, it was rather easy for which side she would take.

The splinters of wood clattered to the stone floor as the door behind them slammed shut. 'Careful, kinsman, try not to take the executioners job.' Ralof said. She narrowed her eyes at the chains and raised the axe and with a precise blow, the axe rang against the chains and they snapped free.

The chain joined the wooden splinters along the floor and the large man in front of her unlatched the back of the helmet easily. He pulled the helmet off his face, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. He reached up and pulled out a rag from his mouth and tossed it aside as well and faced her fully.

Valeka got her first look at Ulfric Stormcloaks face. His face was long and noble, with high cheekbones, a broad nose and a large jaw framed by a dirty, blond beard. His hair was long and braided, stopping just a bit below his shoulders. Dark blue eyes stared at her from beneath his heavy brow; deep and penetrating. Valeka could feel the power in his gaze and almost stepped back in awe.

A smile crossed the man's face and she noted that it did not quite reach his eyes. 'Thank you for freeing me, sister.' The tower shuddered around them accompanied by the dragon's roar. A fierceness appeared in the man's face and the man stomped by her, reaching for a sword on the weapon rack. He tested the weapon curiously and nodded his head and then he stepped out of the tower.

'Where is he going?' Lokir questioned. Valeka frowned as well as she watched the man step outside the tower.

'To fight the dragon.' Ralof said, following after the man.

'Can he even do that?' She questioned.

'Watch.' Ralof stated as disappeared outside. Lokir followed as well, grabbing a few daggers and strapping them to his belt.

As they stepped back outside, the dragon came by once again, roaring. Ulfric crawled on top of the fallen watchtower from earlier, shouting at the monster and waving his blade around to get its attention. The dragon rose to the challenge, focusing on the man. It dived at the man, forearms stretched out and ready to rend the man to ribbons.

'FUS –' the word rumbled through the courtyard, shaking the very foundations of the ground beneath them. 'RO DAH!' The shockwave of force caught the massive beast in the air, causing it to veer off course and smash into another tower. A roar of surprise escaped the dragon's lips as it slammed into the wall of building, breaking through it. The tower shook and slowly began to tip over.

'Get away!' She shouted as the tower began to fall in their direction. She ran forward, Ralof and Lokir flanking her sides as they quickly tried to get away from the falling rumble. The tower struck the ground with crushing force, sending dust a debris flying everywhere. Valeka coughed and sputtered as the dust flew into her mouth and felt her throat tighten. As the cloud began to clear, she noticed that tower had fallen in front of them and between the debris, she watched as Ulfric moved swiftly across the battlefield.

The man reached the stunned dragon quickly and before the beast could even move, he had jumped on top of its wedge shaped head, grabbed his blade in a two handed grip, reversed it, and stabbed it into the wyrm's eye socket. The dragon jerked once and then went still. She watched as he twisted the blade easily, just to make sure and pulled the weapon free.

'What was all that?' she questioned, her mouth opened in surprise and awe.

'That's Ulfric Stormcloak… they call him Dragonborn… the last son of Talos of Old.' Ralof looked at him with pride shining in his eyes. She watched at the man pulled his sword free and jumped off his kill. His eyes flashed to her own and the man inclined his head before he turned and walked away, leaving the remains of the creature.

'Where's he going?' Lokir questioned.

'I would not worry about that. Ulfric can take care of himself. We have to keep moving to the keep. I'm sure he'll find a few of the prisoners and they will be able to take him to Windhelm.'

She watched at the man disappeared behind the ruins of the building from the dragon's rampage and soon lost sight of the man. She gave one last look and soon she turned away as well and followed after Ralof and Lokir as they headed to the keep.

The interior of the barracks was empty and silent. The beds were all lined against one wall and chests sat at the ends of each of them.

'Search the chests and try to find some armor.' Ralof ordered as he opened a chest. The man grunted as he found nothing inside and slammed the lid shut. He continued to search around the room, opening more chests. She and Lokir followed his lead.

'Explain something to me,' she said, her thoughts burning in curiosity. Ralof grunted to let her know that he heard her. 'Just what is the state of Skyrim at the moment?'

Ralof's shoulders slumped at that. Lokir chuckled softly at that.

'What?' she questioned.

'You've made your journey into Skyrim at a rather interesting time, kinsman.' Lokir replied, continuing to chuckle. 'Civil War. A war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks.'

'How much do you remember?' Ralof grumbled, shooting Lokir a glare. The man stopped laughing and quickly shut his mouth at the look.

She tried racking her thoughts back as far as she could remember and of course, nothing came to mind. She shook her head helplessly.

Ralof let out a small sigh as he reached into another chest and pulled out a heavy steel breastplate. He looked over it with a sharp eye and nodded.

'Our culture is being destroyed.' Ralof stated. 'When the White-Gold Concordant was signed the first thing that the Dominion tried to strip from us was our worship of the Old Gods for Imperial ones and their own.' Ralof frowned deeply. 'They have betrayed us; no true, self-respecting Nord would bend backwards for the new laws they've tried to put in place.'

'What kind of laws are they trying to enact?' She questioned hesitantly.

'Outlawing worship of Talos for one.' Lokir said. The man had found a suit of studded leather armor. He placed it on quickly, moving his limbs back and forth to test his movement.

She paused, her eyes narrowed in thought. The name sounded familiar to her. 'Who is that?'

'Tiber Septim… the man who became a god.' Ralof said. 'He was a hero; founded the lines of the Septims, one of the greatest lines of Emperors.'

'The bloodline of Ulfric.'

'Aye. The greatest thing about that is he was a Man before he achieved godhood.' Ralof smiled at that and Lokir was nodding along with him.

She felt she was missing something. And then it finally clicked. 'They're outlawing worship of the god of mankind?'

Ralof nodded grimly. 'Yes. The damned elves believe that only they can achieve godhood since they were the first and are the children of the Aedra; elven superiority at its finest. Must be a terrible thought that a Man became a god before any of them.'

She found herself nodding at that. That must be quite a shock for those who expected godhood if they achieved perfection. She frowned at that. How did she know that elves wanted to only thought to achieve perfection and that would grant them godhood?

'Do the Stormcloaks have any allies? I assume in order to defeat an Empire they would need some sort of army.'

Ralof chuckled at that. 'What the Empire doesn't want people to know is that it's very fractured at the moment.' She searched the contents of one chest and found a suit of leather as well. As she slid the leather chest piece over her head, Ralof continued speaking. 'After the Oblivion Crisis there was a rather… interesting anomaly. The Empire had practically abandoned the Dunmer since they worshiped the Daedra and when the Dark Elves asked for help, the Empire ignored them. Relations probably could have been improved if disaster never befallen them.'

'How did that happen?'

'The Argonians of Black Marsh are what happened,' Lokir commented. 'They were strong enough to invade Morrowind and slew thousands of Dunmer, taking land that belonged to them. They also sacked some of the large cities and killed most of the nobles as well. The remnants had to relocate to various different colonies and needless to say, the Empire never helped them and the Dunmer of Morrowind have reviled them ever since.'

'Foolish Imperials.' Ralof muttered, chuckling softly at that.

'How can you laugh at such a thing?! Thousands were murdered in cold blood!' She exclaimed and Ralof shook his head.

'Because, the Dunmer had to go somewhere and Ulfric welcomed them with open arms.' Ralof revealed with a grim smile on his face. 'In the Empire's folly, they allowed Ulfric to gain allies without even him even having to try. The Dark Elves were loyal to the Empire for years and now he has them in his pocket. Sure, Morrowind is still the seat of the Dark Elves, but everyone knows that their seat is actually in Windhelm.'

'That explains why the Argonians can't enter the city.' Lokir muttered.

'Aye… even the Redguard's of Hammerfell follow Ulfric now. The Empire doesn't even know that they've already lost Skyrim. It's only a matter of time.' Ralof shook his head slowly. 'But we have talked enough. Let us leave this place. I'm sure we're all armed and armored.'

She had managed to pulled the rest of the suit of leather on and had been sitting on a chest, lost in Ralof's tale. What the man said was true, she was ready to move on and Lokir looked ready as well.

A nearby door went deeper into the keep and they passed various rooms and corridors. As they made their way down a set of stairs and reached the basement landing, they heard voices.

'Imperials.' Ralof muttered, reaching for the warhammer he had collected in barracks. The war axe still rested along his belt. She could hear their voices as well and noticed that the hallway led to another door. Curious, she made her way over and ignored Ralof's whispered protests. She crouched low as she approached and slowly eased the door open. Looking into the room, she could see the shadows of three Imperial soldiers from a nearby torchlight. She closed the door quietly and snuck back to the others.

'There's a room down there. One of us can ambush them from behind while the others attack them from the front.' She muttered.

'Good idea!' Ralof exclaimed and quickly hushed himself. They remained in place and she could feel her heart thudding into her chest as she waited to see if the door would slam open and they would be noticed. When nothing happened, they all relaxed.

'Alright: Lokir, you attack them from behind while Ralof and I attack them from the front.' The man nodded. He was the smallest among them and his daggers would be able to slip into them from behind easily. Hopefully. As Lokir departed, she wondered if she could even fight. For that matter, had she ever been in a fight in the first place in her old life? She cursed herself as the thought flashed through her mind and she tightened her grip on the haft of her war axe. Only one way to find out now.

She stood behind Ralof's large form as the man pressed his weight against the door. When Lokir was in position down the hall, he nodded his head once and threw the door open, charging inside with a battle cry.

The Imperials were taken completely by surprise. Ralof's axe caved in the chest of the first, his blade punching through the leather. She was on the second, swinging her axe in an arc, and her blade crunched into his face. As the man's body fell, she quickly pulled the weapon free as the third came after her. She never saw the dagger that stabbed into her back. Lokir twisted the blade inside once before pulling it out and left the legionary to bled out on the floor.

'Thanks,' she inclined her head in the thief's direction. Lokir nodded, wiping his blade on the leathers of the corpse at his feet.

'A storeroom. Raid this place for supplies. We'll need them when we leave and head to Riverwood. It'll take a few days of travel to get there and who knows when the last time we'll find a meal.'

Ralof grabbed three bags off the shelf and threw them at her and Lokir. She caught hers easily and began to fill her bags with foodstuff from the cupboards, ingredients from the barrels and items from the chests. She found a small supply of vials filled with blue, green, and red liquids.

'Nice find, friend. Those potions will definitely come in handy on the road!' Ralof said. Lokir held up his own bag that was filled with food and already the thief was munching on an apple. They gave the thief a look and the man shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

They left the storeroom after and after a short walk they found themselves going down another set of stairs. And the sound of screaming reached their ears. Ralof tightened his grip along his war axe, his blue eyes flashing in anger and slowly mounting rage. A grim look passed Lokir's face and soon they reached the bottom of the stairs.

A torture chamber. Cells lined the walls, a few held the broken bodies of Stormcloak soldiers while one held a pair of Nords. A hooded man and his assistant stood over a Stormcloak, magical lightning flying from his fingers. The Nord's shackled body twitched back and forth as the lighting danced across his scarred flesh. The torture's assistant turned around to slowly and Ralof's war axe gouged into his face. The hooded man turned to face them and she and Lokir buried their own weapons into him. He fell with a choked gurgled, blood dripping from the corner of his lips.

Lokir quickly unshackled the Nord on the rack and the man fell to the floor as he tried to stand. Lokir reached out to help him, but the man waved him away. 'Just… give me a moment. Go and help… the others.' Lokir nodded his head and moved towards the other cells. She watched as Lokir quickly made his way towards the cells with the other Stormcloaks and reached into her bag. She pulled out one of the vials, this one filled with a green fluid and rolled it over to the man. He stared up at her with a frown and reached for the potion. He uncorked the vial and hesitantly sipped its contents. He almost gagged but managed to keep it down and as he did, he stood slowly.

'A stamina potion,' the man commented. He thanked her and turned on his heel, heading towards the Lokir and the other prisoners. Lokir had opened the cage by the time he approached and the man handed the contents of the vial over to the others, which, they too drank and passed it among themselves.

'Jarl Ulfric, was he with you?' The man questioned, facing them once again.

Ralof shook his head. 'For a time he was, but we were separated and he went off on his own.'

The Nord nodded his head. 'Probably making his way towards Windhelm.' His eyes moved to his companions. 'We will stay here for a bit and see if he comes this way.' Ralof inclined his head.

'Back there,' he pointed up at the steps. 'Are a group of Imperials, you can use their gear if you need it.' The man nodded his head and inclined his head at his fellows.

'Stay safe, brothers and sister.' The man said as he and his companions stepped up the stairs and then disappeared from sight.

'Let's move on. There's nothing else for us to worry about here.

'Wait,' Lokir called out. The man had been looking between the bars of the cells and found something. She and Ralof approached slowly and she saw what caught man's attention. Inside the cell was a dead man, covered in robes of a dark blue color. A silver clasp in the shape of a triangle held the mages robes together. 'A mage of Jhunal… never thought I'd see one of them in a cell.'

Ralof tsk'd. 'The elves of the Dominion will torture anyone and everyone. They proved that when the sacked the Imperial city. Poor, rune priest, hopefully his end was swift.' Ralof examined the cell closely. 'Look at that, the rune priest kept a book with him. Wonder if he has anything else on him.'

'Let's find out.' Lokir said. He reached into the folds of his armor, pulling out a few pieces of metal.

'What's that?' She questioned as she saw the pieces. It was a wench and some sort of jagged piece of metal.

'Thieves tools,' Ralof grumbled.

'You weren't complaining about them when you were being freed,' the thief retorted. His dark eyes settled on her and a small smile crossed his face. 'Care to try?' Ralof scoffed and turned away.

'Hurry it up, will you?' He threw over his shoulder.

She grabbed the metal from his hands and looked down on them curiously. Something in her mind nagged at her and she easily slid them into the lock. She moved the pieces back and forth automatically, the thief tools feeling familiar in her hands. Lokir let out a gasp of astonishment at her side. The lock clicked and released, the door to the cell opening slowly.

'Shor's bones… never seen someone open something that fast.' He whistled low, staring at her in wonder. 'Must have been a thief in your old life. I never caught your name.'

As she racked her head, a word appeared in her mind, shining like a beacon. She frowned deeply and wondered why the rest of her memories never came to her quite as easily. Certain things felt old and familiar to her: the war axe had felt rather familiar in her hands, the lockpicks were like old friends, and now the name.

'Valeka,' she said without any sort of hesitation. It was a name… her own name and she hoped other things would come to her easier as well. She tried to think of anything else and sighed as nothing else came forth. And just like that it was gone. She opened the cell door wider and stepped inside.

She grabbed the book first, pushing it into the bag at her side. She would have to look over it later. There was an insignia on the front cover, an open palm, covered in flames. The robes joined the pack as well and she looked over the clasp of the robe for just a moment. The silver glinted from the torch light and she placed it into her bag. She stepped back out of the cell and handed the tools back to Lokir. The Nord held up his hand, shaking his head slowly.

'Go ahead and keep it. You can use it way better than I can.' The man pulled out another lockpick set. 'Always carry as many as you can.' He winked at her and moved to where Ralof stood guard.

The Stormcloak nodded at them. 'Ready?'

'Yup.' Lokir commented, slapping the man on the shoulder. Ralof glared at him. 'Sorry, but we have more news. She remembered her name.' Ralof's eyes fell onto her quickly.

'Really?' He prompted.

She nodded her head. 'It's Valeka.' she responded.

Ralof smiled. 'Valeka,' he played with the words briefly and nodded. 'A strong Nordic name. It suits you. Let's keep moving. I managed to scout the path up ahead, and the wall in the next room must have collapsed when the dragon landed. We can go through there and hopefully escape this place.'

The small group marched out of the area and through more torture cells. Luckily they were empty and soon they arrived in the area Ralof was talking about. A large hole in the wall led deeper into the keep. Torches lit up their path and soon they reached another chamber.

Light trailed down from a hole in the ceiling illuminating the area. The chamber was circular in shape, the upper level connected together by stone bridges and wooden railings. An imperial soldier stood on one of the stone bridges. A stone stair case led down to a shallow stream and a pair of Imperial soldiers. A shout rose up as the Imperials caught sight of them and Valeka drew her axe.

Lokir reached for one of the daggers on his belt and tossed it at one of the soldiers. The makeshift missile landed in a lightly clad Imperial legionary's eye. A steel clad soldier began to cross blades with Ralof and she noted the archer across from them, already taking aim at her. As soon as the man loosed, she rolled to the side. Lokir had drew his dagger and fought against the Imperial that had walked up the stairs. She darted to her left, heading around the chamber and towards the archer. The archer drew back another arrow and fired it at her. She barely managed to duck aside, the arrow brushing against her shoulder.

Another Imperial soldier came at her as she passed a pillar. The Imperial ran at her with her sword drawn, boots thudding across the stone. Valeka lowered her shoulder and crashed into lightly armored woman. The much smaller woman was brushed aside easily, reeling over the railing of the bridge. She could hear the woman crash in the shallow stream beneath them with a slash and continued towards the archer. She cleared the third bridge and pillar and saw the archer release the arrow. The arrowhead punched through her shoulder, the leather easily giving away to the missile.

She continued to charge, watching as the Imperial desperately tried to notch another arrow and fire it into her. She gave the archer no chance. With a yell and running charge, she swung sideways will all her might. Her war axe bit deeply into the archer's stomach, skin parting easily from the heavy blow. The strength of the blow lifted the Imperial legionary from the floor, choking and gasping, and Valeka deposited him to the ground. The Imperial tried to hold his insides in from the disemboweling strike and Valeka ended his suffering by burying her blade into his skull.

She pulled her axe head free and felt the pain in her shoulder. The arrow stuck out of her shoulder and she pulled it free. The arrowhead had, luckily, not penetrated her skin too deeply and she grunted as she looked over the railing and noticed the Imperial soldier she had charged through was limping towards the set of stairs that led towards Lokir and Ralof.

She glanced down at the bow at her feet and wondered. She reached down, quickly grabbing it and drawing the arrow back. The feel of the wood beneath her hands felt unknown. She quickly notched the arrow back, drawing the feather quarrel to her cheek. She breathed and released, the arrow whistling through the air. It clattered against the stone steps, some ways away from the Imperial solider. The Imperial looked back and smiled nastily in her direction.

A mace smashed her head to pieces like an overripe fruit. Lokir had finished his opponent, taken the fallen Imperial's weapon and attacked the woman from behind, taking her completely by surprise. The Nord inclined his head in her direction and Valeka nodded back. She looked towards her left and noticed a lever sitting nearby with a wooden wall next to it.

'I think there's an exit over here!' She called to Lokir and Ralof. The pair joined her just as she pulled down the lever allowing the wooden wall to drop and a bridge to form. Ralof clapped her on her shoulder as he strolled by.

'Good job.' He said and Valeka smiled. Lokir followed as well, thanking her for distracting the Imperial, and they continued on. The cavern beneath the keep was surprisingly well lit. Torches and lanterns hung along the walls, showing that someone had taken care to make sure this path was clear. They followed the lights and moved down a tunnel that led into a cave opening.

There were no lights on this path and torches along the walls were unlit. Valeka backtracked and grabbed a torch, slowly lighting the unlit torches. The light from the torches revealed a large mass of spider webs in the chamber ahead.

Ralof let out a low moan. 'Spiders… why did it have to be spiders.' Valeka sliced her axe through the silky strands. The mass of webs in front of them parted easily and they stepped inside the nest. She held the torch up and revealed the spider den they had walked into. The spiders themselves were slowly coming down from the walls and ceiling, dropping to the floor as they noticed the people that had disturbed their rest.

Valeka tightened her grip on the torch and war axe as the spiders circled around them, pincers clicking in excitement. They sounded like they were hungry. Valeka heard a thud behind her and turned slowly. A spider the size of a horse drawn carriage had dropped from behind them. The monster was massive, black hair covered its entire body, eight legged, and its eight eyes were focused on her. She could make out here reflection in the arachnid's black eyes. Its pincers clicked at the sight of her and Valeka scowled.

She did something either incredibly smart, or incredibly stupid. She reared back the arm holding her torch and threw it forward. The torch tumbled end over end, striking the spider queen in its eyes. The screech that echoed through the cave could wake the dead. The spider's hair caught fire and the creature clicked back and forth in pain, fire engulfing it. The torch struck the ground, still aflame. The fire licked greedily at the silky stands beneath it and a blaze grew to life.

'RUN!' the terror in Ralof's voice was unmistakable as the fire spread. The spiders surrounding them quickly departed, pincers clicking in fear as the queen died in fire. The spider queen was shaking and trembling, moving back and forth through the nest. It managed to strike the wall and the strands there erupted in flames as well. Valeka watched the destruction for just a moment before she followed after Ralof and Lokir as they fled deeper into the nest.

The air was choked with flames as they ran and above them the fire spread across the ceiling. Spiders clicked and chirped around them as their nest was destroyed and they caught fire. The sound of screeching spiders and burning exoskeletons filled the cave as they ran. They managed to reach another web and easily sliced through it. Behind them, light shined brightly down into the cave and the group ran forwards, exiting the cave with the roar flames and screams of spiders behind them.

The three stepped out of the cave gasping and coughing. On hands and knees, they caught their breath and Valeka had her first look at the Skyrim landscape.

Overhead, the sun was shining and a cold, refreshing breeze blew across her heated skin. In the distance, she could see the tall, wide mountains covered in snow. Trees and greenery covered the ground along with small patches of snow, stubbornly clinging to life even with the snow covering them. A dirty rural path led down into a stone cobbled road beneath them.

It was beautiful.

Valeka sucked in a deep breath; savoring the cold air in her lungs.

'Finally we're out of there.' Lokir grumbled, his eyes looking towards the sky. Ralof stood next to the man, staring at the landscape silently. The thief turned towards the large Nord. 'Where to now?'

'Riverwood.' Ralof said, looking down and into the valley in front of them. He pointed out the road. 'If we follow the path, we can reach Riverwood in a two days. My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill there. She'll take us in for a few days and from there we can head to Whiterun and take a carriage from there.' He turned towards them. 'From there, I intend to go to Windhelm. The both of you are welcome to join me, or we can all go our separate ways from there.'

* * *

A/N: And another charter finished and Riverwood is next! Hopefully the first part of the story did not turn everyone off too much with Ulfric being practically a god. It felt rather unbelievable writing the whole sequence and I may have to go back and write it differently as well, but for now it'll stay like that.


	3. Riverwood

Riverwood

The path to Riverwood had taken them three days. Lokir, Ralof and she had encountered a few wolves and bandits on the long journey. The bandits had attacked them on the second night when they had camped at a nearby mine. The wolves had ambushed them in the early morning. Both of the attempted ambushes had failed and their steel easily sliced through the attacks. However, the escaped prisoners were now tired. Valeka wondered how much longer they had left to reach the city.

'There it is!' Ralof suddenly shouted. The tall, powerfully built man was clad in a suit of banded iron armor from one of the bandits. The armor was surprisingly sturdy and well-built with only a few notches in the breastplate. The man was pointing down the road and Valeka followed his finger. She noticed the gray stone walls of the city. From her elevated position she could see the city in all its glory.

Riverwood sat along the banks of the White River and at the base of the Throat of the World. Ralof had explained that the city had been around more, or less, when his family had built the mill. Ever since then, his family held the power of the city.

'Almost had the opportunity to become a Thane.' Ralof had muttered around the campfire on the second night. Lokir had fallen to sleep already and only she and Ralof were awake. Ralof had just finished telling her about the city and his family. 'Before the civil war broke out, I had been a vassal in Jarl Balgruuf's court and my father still lived by then. He had the title of Thane and died right before Ulfric fought the High King. When I joined Ulfric and his men, Balgruuf gave the title to my sister instead.' He had gone quiet then, staring into the flames silently. Valeka had left him to his thoughts and fell asleep soon after, her mind taking in the new information.

'Gerdur and Hod should be at the mill.' Ralof mused, as they walked down the main road. Their pace had increased slightly and the thought of food and a bed to sleep on instead of the ground made Valeka almost sigh in pleasure.

The gates of Riverwood were under the watch of a pair of guards. The gate to the city was wide open and the guards inclined their head as they strolled by. Valeka raised her brow at such a display.

Lokir voiced his own opinion when they were out of ear shot of the pair.

'Why did they let us in without so much as a glance? In the major holds, they would have wanted to search us.'

Ralof grinned and shook his head. 'They have scouts everywhere in the surrounding forests. If anything, someone already caught sight of us when we came down the road and it's easy to pick us apart from bandits.'

'That's… rather clever.' Lokir said, a small frown crossing his face. Ralof inclined his head in agreement. Valeka too agreed. That was a rather nice system if it was fool proof.

'How long has that been in effect for?' she questioned. Ralof's brow narrowed in thought.

'I want to say before my sister became the Thane of Riverwood. Jarl Balgruuf has been implementing changes for years now. He's practically fortified against any sort of attack from the Empire, or Stormcloaks.' Ralof frowned heavily at that. Valeka shook her head slowly.

'Why are you angry at that? If the Jarl did not fortify such places, what do you think would happen to cities like Riverwood? They would be destroyed by the Stormcloaks and Imperials.' Valeka explained. At that, Ralof's expression became slightly thunderous and red in anger.

'Ulfric would not do such a thing! He's trying to defeat the Empire from forsaking our values! The Empire on the other hand….' Ralof trailed off. Valeka did not take any offense to Ralof's anger. If one had tried to shatter her own preconceptions of a person she would be rather defensive too. Then again, she did not know Ulfric personally, so perhaps he was right.

She turned her eyes towards the main street of Riverwood, watching the citizens of the medium sized city. People were continuing on their day; chatting among each other and speaking among themselves in hushed conversations. A Wood Elf and Imperial were walking down the street arm-in-arm. A Nord with a bruised face was glaring at the pair as they made their way down the street.

Ralof chuckled beneath his breath from next to her. 'I see that business is finally over.' Ralof said.

'What's that?' Lokir spoke up from Ralof's left side.

The man smiled slowly. 'There was an Imperial family that came into Skyrim – Lucan and Camilla Valerius – and the local bard and hunter decided they both courted her at the same time.' Lokir's mouth dropped open in surprise and Ralof's chuckled turned into a laugh. 'Yes, everyone reacts like that and some thought it was a problem, but soon enough, they ignored it. At the time it was one of the biggest pieces of gossip in the whole village. My sister said this love triangle went on for months before Camilla finally chose someone. Sven,' Ralof pointed at the Nord, 'while is great at speaking and able to charm off the pants of anyone, is terrible when it comes to writing. He decided to forge a letter and say it was from Faendal,' he inclined his head in the elf's direction. 'Faendal on the other hand is rather literate and has gave Camilla multiple letters in advance. Camilla easily sniffed out the deception and chose Faendal in the end.' He looked at Sven for a bit longer. 'Looks like the little elf gave him quite the thrashing.'

That was the understatement of the year. Sven looked like he had fought a bear and lost… badly. As they strolled closer to him, she noticed the bruising was rather fresh as well. The man's right eye was blackened and swollen. The Nord managed to catch her eye and leered in her direction. She narrowed her own eyes and reached for the war axe on her belt. The Nord's leer disappeared instantly. She sneered in his direction and threw in a glare as well and the Nord soon disappeared inside.

Ralof continued to chuckle.

A blacksmith forge was empty to her left; to the right was a general goods store. Houses flanked each side of the main street and she noticed a building at the end of the main street, sitting between the crossroads. It was a rather large inn.

'Not there just yet, kinsman.' Ralof muttered, his hand resting on her shoulder. He steered her away easily and headed towards the small bridge that crossed the White River. As they passed over, Valeka looked towards her right and saw a large mill. Mill workers were rolling a stripped log down a chute that rolled into the river and slowly floated down stream. 'Whiterun gets the wood and processes it into a manner of things. Parchment, arrow shafts, furniture; you name it and Whiterun produces it.' Valeka inclined her head.

'What if a bandit decides to try and take the wood?' Valeka questioned.

'No reason, for one. And if they do, the way down is patrolled by guards from Whiterun. Any bandit would lose their lives if that happens.'

Valeka inclined her head as Lokir let out a low whistle. 'Impressive. Jarl Balgruuf sounds like a rather strong leader.'

Slowly, as if the action pained him, Ralof nodded his head. 'Aye, he's covered everything quite well.'

The island that the lumber mill sat on was filled with mill workers moving back and forth; some were splitting the wood and others were carrying stacks of tied together on their broad shoulders. Laughter and the occasional curse would rise in the air, but the mill workers worked diligently. A slender woman stood apart from them all, arms crossed over her chest and sharp eyes looking for the slightest mistake from the mill workers. She wore a fine tunic, trousers, and fine leather boots. A dagger sat on the left side of her belt.

'Sister!' Ralof called over the crowd. The mill workers immediately looked over towards the man. Valeka shook her head slightly, her ear ringing slightly from Ralof's shout. The man could definitely be known if he wanted to be. The blonde haired Nord looked up, her vivid blue eyes landing on them instantly. A myriad of emotions crossed over her handsome face; worry, fear, apprehension, and relief.

'Brother!' she called out, making her way through the crowd. The mill workers gave the woman wide berth as she strolled by and Valeka chuckled. Seems like Ralof's sister was a rather well known woman and getting in the way of her ire must have been terrible if the workers shifted away that much.

'Mara's Mercy, it's good to see you!' she exclaimed as she approached him. The woman looked at the mill workers that had paused in their work and scowled deeply at them. 'Back to work, you milk drinkers! Or I'll dock your pay for standing around!' The mill workers immediately began to go back to work and a small smile crossed her face. She turned back to her brother and the look returned to one of worry. 'But is it safe for you to be here? We heard that Ulfric Stormcloak had been captured… Are you hurt? What has happened?' Gerdur fired off the questions rapidly and Ralof held up his hands with a smile.

'Gerdur… Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am.' The woman let out a sigh of relief and turned her gave on Lokir and her.

'And who are these two? Are they your comrades?' Her eyes were looking over Lokir. The man had kept the Imperial gladius and was proudly displayed on his waist. The studded leather cuirass covered his chest and she was already reaching for the dagger at her belt. Ralof placed a hand on her wrist gently.

'Not comrades yet, but friends. I owe these two my life, in fact. Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news reaches the Legion…'

She nodded her head slowly. 'You're right. Follow me.' She turned from them and made their way behind the lumber mill. As they strolled by, Gerdur looked upward and shouted: 'Hod! Come here a moment! I need your help with something!'

A man appeared above them, blonde hair slightly disheveled. Valeka recognized him from one of the mill workers that had pushed the log down into the river.

'What is it, woman? Sven drinking on the job again!?' The man exclaimed as he peered down at them. His gaze settled on Ralof and he frowned and then grunted. 'Ah, I'll be right down.'

They continued on and as they made their way towards another part of the island, a boy ran up to them, a dog barking behind him. 'Uncle Ralof!' The child shouted as he ran towards them, waving merrily at them, excitement flashing in his eyes. 'Is that your axe? Can I see it? How many Imperials have you killed? Have you met Ulfric Stormcloak yet?' The boy was practically bouncing around them in his excitement.

'Hush, Frodnar. Go and watch the south road. Come and find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming.' Frodnar looked like her was about to protest, but Gerdur raised her voice only slightly. 'Now, boy!' The child nodded his head.

'Yes, mama,' sullen and slightly downtrodden, he turned away and went back the way he came. Gerdur shook her head slowly and Stump the dog barked. 'You too.' She growled out and the dog quickly turned on his heel and ran after the boy.

'He's gotten so big, Gerdur.' Ralof said softly. A smile was on his face. 'He'll make a fine soldier.'

'He will, but the older he gets, the more I worry.' She shook her head slowly. 'Now what's going on Ralof? You three look live you've been to Oblivion and back.' Ralof moved towards a tree stump and sat down heavily on it. Lokir and Valeka took their own and sat down as well. Valeka almost sighed in pleasure as she felt her limbs relax. She heard someone move from behind her and Hod soon appeared and stood next to his wife.

Ralof ran a hand on his tired face. A sigh escaped his lips as he appeared much more haggard in appearance. 'I can't remember the last time I had a good night of sleep. Where do I begin…' A small frown crossed his face before he began to speak. 'Well, the part about Ulfric is true. We were captured a bit to the west of Helgen – can't remember where – as if the Imperial's knew exactly where we were. The Empire captured us and left us in a cell for a day, or so? They took us to the executioner's block and were ready to start chopping.'

'Those bastards!' Gerdur snarled.

'They did not even give us a trial. Treason, for fighting against your own people! Skyrim would have seen the whole truth if that had happened. But... something else happened… a dragon appeared…' Ralof's voice was filled with wonder. Valeka recalled the great wyrm that had attacked. She could still hear its roars as it rampaged through the city.

'You don't mean a real, live…'

'Yes,' Ralof confirmed and they all went silent for a bit. 'You should have seen it. It would have been a great battle if one of us could fight it. A song for legends.'

'Did Ulfric slay the beast?' Hod questioned. Ralof nodded his head.

'That he did. He really is the Dragonborn. He brought it down with a Shout and slew it easily afterwards. If only we could have brought it from Helgen with us. No doubt the Legion will try to keep everything quiet especially if they find out that Ulfric killed it.' Ralof frowned. 'Now that I think of it, if that dragon had not attacked we probably would not be here now. In all the confusion, we managed to slip away and here we are. Did anyone else make it here before us?'

Gerdur shook her head. 'The south road has been empty all this morning. You all are the first travelers we've seen.'

'Good. Maybe we can stay here for a while. I hate to put your family in danger, Gerdur, but…'

'Nonsense,' Gerdur said firmly. You and your friends are welcomed to stay here as long as you need to. The Imperials won't do anything and the Stormcloaks will not risk Balgruuf's anger. Any friends of Ralof are friends of ours.' Valeka could not believe how… accepting Ralof's family was. Without any question, they had just taken in two unknown people just like that. She wondered if everyone else in Skyrim was so accepting of everyone as well.

'Thanks, sister. I knew I could count on you.'

'I better get back to work before I'm missed… I assume Ulfric is still okay?'

'We were separated and he's probably heading towards Winterhold. He needs to get back to Galmar and hopefully start the fight against the Imperials again.'

'I'll let them into the house,' Hod spoke up. He was reaching into his pocket already and produced a key. 'I can show them were everything is, you know…'

Gerdur scoffed. 'More like help yourself to the mead, you mean. I swear, you're just as bad as Sven… I'll see you later, brother. Stay safe.'

'Don't worry about us. We know how to lay low.' Ralof said, standing.


	4. The Stay in Riverwood

Valeka crept slowly from boulder to boulder, war axe in hand, as she stalked her prey. The bandit coughed into her hand, stopping in the middle of the hallway of the cavern. She stayed in the shadows, eyes narrowed as she paused in the darkness. The shadows enveloped her twisting around her comfortably. She smiled grimly at the thought. This certainly did feel familiar… if only she could remember her old life…

The bandit moved again and she struck. She grabbed the war axe in a two handed grip and brought it deep into the back of her head. The head crunched into the skull of the woman and she wretched it free and hacked the weapon down as if she were felling logs. The stink of blood filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes, breathing heavily.

She wiped a few streaks of blood off her face and could taste the copper tang on her lips. She spat onto the furrowed ground and made her way deeper inside the cavern.

As she walked, she thought on all that she had accomplished so far.

They had stayed in Riverwood for almost a week to rest and recuperate. The Imperial Legion had finally reached the ruins of Helgen and word had reached Riverwood that they had not found the corpse of the dragon. If they had, the Imperials were all keeping the matter hushed. Only a few of the refugees had made it to Helgen. The rest were either scattered, or had fallen on the road.

She had taken up to helping the locals with odd jobs around the city. During the day, she would help Gerdur around the mill; chopping up logs and getting a bit of gold and silver from the work. Once she had helped the local blacksmith forge a few items. Alvor the Smith kept a rather nice forge and she helped him forge a few swords for him. During that time, she had nearly been caught by Hadvar, but the man was too distracted to pay much attention to her and she had been thankful, but decided not to take up blacksmithing as a hobby for a moment.

At nights she had taken to hunting game with the local hunter, Faendal. The wood elf had a sharp eye and was rather skilled with a bow as well. He proved it, by bring down most of the kills from the hunts in the woods. The Bosmer regaled her with tales of the nearby woodlands since he also did work as a scout.

'Brings in more coin,' the little elf had mentioned. He had glanced around a bit before whispering conspiringly with her. 'No one else knows just yet, but I may be a father soon!' Valeka had been happy for the elf and thanked him. She wondered if Lucan would flip out when he had learned of the news.

When they returned from the hunting, they would bring the meat to the Sleeping Giant Inn and the barkeeper – a Breton by the name of Delphine – gave them gold and a meal for their work. Valeka did not know why, but she had a strange feeling whenever the woman was around. The small woman did not look like much, but she felt… dangerous to her for some reason. She would keep an eye on the formidable looking woman. All thoughts aside, Delphine seemed nice enough and she had given her a missive from the locals.

There was an iron mine called Embershard that had been taken over by bandits and raiders. The iron from the mine was used to create nails and whole manner of objects that would help the city. The local guards could not, or would not do such a task since they were paid only to do one thing and that was watch the city. Valeka had decided to go herself and see what she could find. Who knew what the bandits could have taken on the road and decided to keep for themselves. And now here she was, leaving a trail of death in her wake.

Valeka stared down at the dead bandit and curiously saw something flash. Tilting her head in interest, she reached down and pulled the bandits weapon from her side. It was a heavy looking mace. The head of the deadly weapon had four, sharp flanged that could easily punch through armor and made out of steel. The haft of the weapon was one and a half feet long and was inscribed with strange runes. Valeka peered at the weapon curiously and tightened her hold on the weapon. The runes flared to life and she raised her eyebrow in surprise as flames danced along the head.

'Enchanted?' she mused out loud. She and Alvor had discussed such kind of weapons. Using a soul gem, enchanting table and a weapon, one could place spells into a number of objects if one had the skill. The weapons and items that were forged were stronger than normal weapons and they could easily cut through the flesh of magical creatures. The entire process did not take too long and sadly; Riverwood did not have any sort of tables like that lying around. They were usually in major cities and that made her want to journey to Whiterun at least to see what could be accomplished. Alvor had also explained that one could breakdown enchanted weapons they carried and learn the knowledge to enchant more items. The possibilities were endless and she was curious on learning such a practice.

Grasping the mace tightly into her hand, she felt the flames burn just slightly brighter and smirked. She definitely had to see what this thing could do. Weapon in each hand, she continued on, eager to find another bandit. She did not have to wait long. She had killed a number of the cutthroats on the way inside and she found her new foes as soon as she walked inside the main chamber of the cavern. The last area held three tiers to the area.

The lowest area was a makeshift crafting area. It held a forge, grindstone and workbench. Iron ingots were scattered all around the area along with the treasure the bandits had accumulate. The second was a kitchen/pantry for the bandits and had a number of food items and ingredients and the last was a pathway that lead somewhere outside.

A bandit charged at her from a set of stairs to her left. She was ready for him. The bandit wielded an iron sword and slashed at her face. She parried aside the strike with a backhand movement with her war axe. The steel haft of the weapon turned the weaker iron aside and the mace came in a flying arc towards the man's face. Blood and flesh parted skin easily and flames ate hungrily at the area it came in contact with. The horrible scream that left the man's ruin of a mouth carried through the cavern.

She ended his screams with an another blow from her mace. The fire continued to lick at his skin as she moved to the next bandit. Yells and screams of anger rose in the large cavern and another pair of bandits came towards her. One carried a large greatsword and the other a simple war axe like her own. They were on her in a heartbeat, weapons swinging. Valeka had to step backwards to avoid the large greatsword and weaved to the side as the war axe tried to swing at her. She narrowed her eyes in thought, examining the pair of fighters.

The greatsword wielder was the much more dangerous of the two. With the long reach of the blade and how large his forearms were, he could definitely do lasting damage to her if he wanted to. Probably take off her head easily enough as well. The smaller fighter was way too eager and struck with quick strikes. Perhaps she could…

The pair were on her once again and she decided to try her new plan of attack. She charged at the large of the pair and right when she was about to come in contact with him, she stopped her momentum and launched herself at the smaller of the pair. The greatsword whistled behind her and the man grunted as the sound of stone clashed against steel.

She swung her mace first, her right arm swinging down in an overhead blow. The bandit blocked the head of the ace easily and she brought her war axe down onto the haft of the weapon. The war axe nearly slipped from her fingers but she managed to hang on. They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, straining against each other. A look of victorious glee came across the man's face and she could feel the large shadow overcome her. She did not let the look worry her. Instead she suddenly backed off, and threw herself to the side. She heard the sound of steel slicing through flesh and a choked gurgle as she rolled along the ground. She came back to her feet as the bandit slumped to the dirt – throat cut half way through and the bandit looking at his companion in surprise.

Valeka slashed through the surprise bandit with her war axe and kicked him off her blade with a slow shake of her head. 'Fools,' she muttered. 'That's why you always pay atten-' she was cut off as pain flashed through her shoulder. She quickly dropped to the floor with a hiss of breath as another arrow sailed over her head. She quickly rolled into cover, gritting her teeth in pain.

 _Perhaps_ , _I should follow my own advice_ , she thought as she sat behind the barrel. She grimaced at the arrow sticking out of her shoulder. She tried to move her fingers, but found that they were barely responding to her movements. She moved her shoulders experimentally and cursed as she felt pain. The arrowhead had pierced her skin this time. Pulling it out definitely was out of the question this time. She would have to cut it out when she journeyed back to Riverwood after all this… assuming she made it, of course.

She breathed in and out slowly, calming herself down. She needed a way to get past the archer. Or find something she could possibly throw at the man. Too bad she only had a flame spell in her arsenal of spells. She would have to get close and personal.

She peaked her head over the small barrel and quickly ducked back down as she saw the archer loose. She wished she had a tower shield, something large enough to… her eyes went over to the large bandit. The Orc was freakishly huge and she wondered if she could move such a weight. She kept low and tried to pull him over to her, but found that he was too heavy. The smaller bandit would have to do. She managed to reach out and drag his body towards her cover and almost got an arrow in her forearm for her trouble. Luckily, she managed to grab the body.

She grabbed the man, held him up, and kept her body as close to his as possible. Another arrow lanced through the air and buried itself in the corpses chest. She could feel the thud of the impact, the protest of her arm and held on for dear life as she advanced. Arrow after arrow slammed into the body as she advanced closer to the archer and she occasionally peeked over the corpse's shoulder to see if she could spot the archer. No such luck. The shafts of the arrows kept getting in the way.

Finally, the assault stopped and she heard the archer curse. The rasp of a sword being draw echoed through the cavern. She dropped the body and unsheathed her war axe. The weapon rested comfortably in her left hand and she marched her way up the stairs. She reached the landing just in time to come in contact with the archer. A short sword was in the Bosmer's right hand; an empty quiver of arrows sat on her back and she immediately lunged at her. Valeka twisted away, her war axe parrying aside the strike. The little elf danced around her, sword flashing and arching this way and that. Valeka grunted as she tried to ward off the attacks. With her right arm all, but useless, it was almost for naught. The elf was agile and quick on her toes. She would not be making an easy kill. Valeka wished she had the enchanted mace in her hand. She had left the weapon when she had been struck with the arrow that had slightly disabled her.

As their weapons continued to flash back and forth against each other, she saw a bridge. The rickety old thing was where the elf had been firing at her from afar. She had a sudden and dangerous thought. She moved forward, raining hard and heavy blows on the elf. The lithe, brown skinned elf backpedaled rapidly to keep away from her heavy blows. And then a moment later, she was stumbling backwards, giving ground easily. The elf got eager and launched her own series of blows at her. The small sword managed to get by her guard and sliced into her side. The leather parted easily from the stroke of the sword. A gasp of pain escaped her lips and her retreat became faster. The elf capitalized on that, after her. Valeka blocked and parried most of the blows, but a few managed to slice into her knuckle and she screamed in pain, dropping the war axe. The wood elf lunged towards her again, the blade pointed at her stomach. She managed to side step the thrust and lower her body; charging forwards a moment later and crashing into the elf's midsection and lifting her up… and over the edge of the bridge.

For a moment, she felt completely and utterly weightless. Gravity soon reasserted itself and she heard the wood elf scream as they fell. Valeka tucked her head in as close as possible to the elf's chest to protect her head. They hit the water with a loud splash!

The elf's scream was immediately cut off from the muted sounds of water. Valeka pulled away, thankful that she hadn't broke her neck or anything. The elf wasn't as lucky. Valeka noticed her slowly float back to the surface, neck at an awkward angle. She surfaced with a gasp of air, her body twitching in pain. Her muscles were taunt and she could exhaustion slowly creep into her limbs. Breathing heavily, she managed to reach the banks of the small pond and collapsed in heap in the mud.

* * *

Valeka tested her shoulder slowly, seeing if she would be in any pain. When nothing came back, she grinned to herself and sighed in pleasure. Gerdur certainly knew how to patch up wounds. The archers arrow had not done enough damage to cripple her thankfully and the cuts that had danced along her skin had healed easily with a few health potions.

'Thank you again Gerdur,' Valeka said with a smile. 'I am greatly indebted to your family.'

'Think nothing of it Valeka,' Gerdur said with a grin. 'You saved my brother enough times and you've saved the city itself. Who knows what those bandits would have done if they had gathered more people. Probably raided this place at some point.'

'Riverwood has the walls, it would be able to defend itself easily, wouldn't it?' Valeka questioned. She placed her hands on her lap, peering curiously at the woman. Gerdur looked slightly uncomfortable now.

'Aye, it has walls, but the place is not manned well.' She confessed. 'Riverwood could probably hold against a siege for perhaps a week, or two before being overwhelmed.' A small frown crossed her face at that.

Valeka was surprised. Riverwood sat between the mountain that held Bleak Falls Barrow and the Throat of the World. The walls that surrounded the city covered the whole pass between the mountains. The water from the White River passed through the city between the iron grates at both ends of the city. A pull chain system easily opened and closed the grates to allow the logs to continue downstream and were closed and locked tight during the evening hours.

'Why are there so little guards,' asked Valeka. A small frown was on her face.

Gerdur grimaced. 'Times are hard. All this business with the civil war has made trade practically dry up. Jarl Balgruuf is trying, but his efforts are draining the coffers. Sure, we're defended well, but all that comes with a price. And the fact that he hasn't taken a side doesn't help either. If he took a side in this conflict the other Jarl's would help him, but old, stubborn Balgruuf is set in his ways.' She shook her head slowly and sighed. 'Sorry for unloading all this on you.'

Valeka held up her hand, her mind going in all directions. 'Don't be. I barely know anything about this providence as it is and it looks like my memory is not returning anytime soon.' Gerdur looked at her in pity. Valeka sighed. She hated that look. 'What does he do since he has no coin?'

'The East Empire Trading Company manages to bail him out.' Gerdur answered. Valeka frowned in confusion.

'Isn't that part of the Empire itself?'

'No, it used to be when Tiber Septim ruled, but now it's ruled by a bunch of merchants.'

'Strange.' Valeka commented. Gerdur nodded her own head in agreement.

'It is, but the Jarl always has enough coin. Sadly, he's stuck in Dragonsreach all the time now. The jarl's of Whiterun would always head down to the Banned Mare, but now that the Jarl's in debt, he stays in his castle all day. That crown must be heavy for him.'

'Must be nice,' she muttered sarcastically. Gerdur chuckled.

'It is. People struggling is always a nice thing. Now that Embershard is open once again, hopefully we'll have more coin coming through.'

Valeka inclined her head. She hoped so too. With all the gear she had collected from the mine before the others had cleaned it out, she had quite enough gold saved up. Soon, she would make the journey to Whiterun to see the city itself. Even with the tale that Gerdur had spoken to her of, she still wanted to see the city. One day, she would be able to see the whole providence and perhaps even more?

'Gerdur, what's in Whiterun?' During her thoughts, the older woman had moved around her home, starting to prepare dinner.

'A lot actually.' Gerdur pulled out various cooking utensils. 'Forges, inns, places to trade and sell. Stalls from everywhere around the entire continent. If you're looking for an adventure, I'd suggest heading towards the inns and finding work there. Even with Whiterun fortified, there's still bandits that need to be cleaned out of the Hold. If I were you, I'd go out and join the Companions.'

'The Companions?'

'Aye. They're a group of warriors that have been around since the time of Ysgramor.' A frown crossed her face. 'Kodlack Whitemane used to lead the group of warriors, but he died almost a year ago. The new Harbinger is a giant of a Redguard. Can't remember his name – something from Hammerfell – but word has it that he's led the Companions to greatness once again. Last time I was in Whiterun, a few of them had become the Jarl's personal bodyguard.'

Her interest was slightly peaked at that. 'They still help Whiterun even if the Jarl is in debt?'

Gerdur nodded her head. 'The Companions have always stood with Whiterun and they always will. They built the city itself and the stone and metal that makes up the great palace was forged in the fires of the Skyforge. With their help in building the palace, the first Jarl of Whiterun granted Thanehood to the Harbinger of the Companions, permanently, whoever is the Harbinger automatically becomes a Thane of the city.'

Valeka raised a brow at that. She could recall faintly that the tile of Thane meant. Ralof had explained it to her and the Thane was a Lord with their own plot of land. Riverwood itself was the plot of land and Gerdur currently held the title of Thane.

'So you are the leader of Riverwood.' Valeka chuckled. Gerdur whirled on her, holding a stirring spoon threateningly in her direction.

'Yes, I am, but that doesn't mean anything! I swear if you start calling me 'lady', or any of this 'lordship' business I'll use this on you!'

Valeka held her hands up in surrender, quickly standing and heading towards the door. 'I won't, I won't.'

'Good,' Gerdur turned back around and began to add more ingredients into the cooking pot.

'Your royal highness.' She spun on her heel again, but Valeka had already disappeared, her laughter echoing through the home.

* * *

Valeka rested her head on her clasped hands. A half-full bottle of wine sat next to the remnants of her dinner of steamed mudcrab legs, mashed potatoes, grilled leeks, and a slice of apple pie. Most of the food had been devoured in her hunger and the only food left on her plate was the outer layer of her pie and a few scraps of potatoes. She had been ravenous when she first stepped inside the inn, but now that she had eaten her fill, she was content.

The local bard was singing a song that she was unfamiliar with and for the moment she let the notes trail through her head. The inn was surprisingly quiet and empty for a mid-afternoon day. Only a few patrons were scattered around the common room and the barkeeper was washing a dirty rag on the cleaned bar. She was slightly startled when someone sat down in front of her.

It was Faendal and a look of worry was on the Bosmer's face.

'Faendal,' she greeted, quickly regaining her composure. 'For a second I thought you were Sven. What can I do for you, friend?' Faendal looked around a bit before he leaned forward.

'Trouble, I'm afraid. Camilla's been kidnapped.' The man's voice was tight in his anger and fear.

'What?! When and how?' Valeka placed her hands on the table, nostrils flaring.

'Since this morning. She was out by the northern road, picking a few mountain flowers. The bandits came from Bleak Falls and took her. A guard saw it during his watch and warned me.'

'And he did nothing to stop them?' Valeka stood with a growl in her voice. Already, her hands were itching towards her weapons. Anger and rage were rising inside of her. She had stumbled across the occasional bandit hideout and had seen what the lawless men had done to captured women and men. Camillia hopefully wouldn't suffer from such actions, but if the raiders had caught her…

The look in Faendal's eyes showed that the small man knew what could happen to his lover as well.

'They will try and rape her and if they somehow discover that she's with child…' Faendal had a snarl etched into his face.

'We will stop them.' Valeka managed to say forcefully. 'Go and get your bow. We have scum to deal with.'


	5. Bleak Falls Barrow

Bleak Falls Barrow

The arrow slammed into the chest of the raider, sending him backwards. With a scream, he toppled over the small bridge and fell into the snow banks below. Faendal drew another arrow out of his quiver, quickly nocking another arrow. The woman that duel wielded the enchanted mace and axe stepped into his line of sight, her mace making quick work of the burly Redguard in front of her. The naturally talented warrior from Hammerfell stood no chance against the woman.

He tried to slice a path through her breast, but the woman easily parried aside the sword with the haft of the axe and her mace made quick work of his skull. Faendal relaxed slightly as the dark haired Nord slumped her shoulders. The tall, powerfully built warrior turned her back on the opening of the small watchtower. Faendal saw a hint of movement.

In one smooth motion, he raised his bow once more and loosed his arrow. The elven arrowhead flashed past the Nord's head, whistled through the air and punched through the last bandits face. The raider's momentum carried him forward a few more feet and soon, he slumped into the ground, hot blood slowly covering the snow.

'Nice shot,' Valeka muttered looking behind her. The Nord sheathed her war axe and kept her mace in hand. A harsh wind blew across the mountain and the woman narrowed her eyes. Her dark hair flapped in the wind and the buckle straps on her leather armor lashed against her skin. The woman was quiet the sight; tall as any Nord and leanly muscled. The dark hair framed her face well, and deep, vivid blue eyes flashed with something he could not put his finger on. The Nord certainly had a beautiful face. Faendal shook his head at that.

Now was not the time. His own wife was in danger!

'Is that the place?' She questioned, pointing her finger higher up the path. Faendal inclined his head slowly. Bleak Falls Barrow sat above them and further along the path.

The massive building had once been a temple in the ancient ages, but now was a ruin. Arches rose above the impressive architecture and was covered in piles of snow. Even with its age, the old structure still looked formidable. Faendal felt a chill run across his back as he looked at the building.

'That's it. Surprising that its held up for so long.' Faendal commented. He kept his bow in hand and slowly made his way up the path. Valeka followed after him, her long legs easily keeping up with his own and soon she was walking up the path with side by side. The mace was still in hand and she idly tapped the head of the mace against right palm.

'Ralof said the place always gave him nightmares.' Valeka commented. Her voice was soft at the moment and she stared at the place. 'He always said, he had a fear of the undead coming down from the mountain and taking him while he slept.'

Faendal snorted at that. 'Funny. I suppose it's why my own people eat their dead.'

Valeka frowned at that. 'Your people eat the dead?'

Faendal inclined his head at that. 'Those that follow the Green Pack.' The elf briefly explained the concept behind it to the woman whose face noticeably became paler and paler as he continued to speak. By the end, the woman was noticeably green and Faendal chuckled. 'No worry, friend. If you die, I will not devour your corpse. I have not partaken in the Green in decades and that was already before I left Valenwood. I'll make sure you're buried like a proper Nord.' The woman stared at him warily.

'Thanks, I feel so much better.' She held up her free hand. 'Get eaten by an elf, or rise from the dead. I like such options.' A small grim smile crossed her face and Faendal continued to chuckle.

'Humans…' Faendal stated and he looked up at the Barrow again. They were noticeably closer and his green eyes managed to pick out a bandit standing at the top of one of the archways. He held up his hand and Valeka came to a stop immediately. He drew an arrow from his quiver and notched it to his bow. He titled his head for just the moment, listening to the wind and feeling it blow along his skin. He raised the bow slightly higher and largely towards the right. He shot the arrow it flew past the archway of the building.

'I take back what I said earlier about you being a good shot.' Valeka commented. Faendal smirked and held up his hand at the bandit. A breeze blew across the mountain and the bandit stiffened a moment later – an arrow jutting out of his neck – slumped over the edge of the archway, falling into the snow below. Valeka remained silent as he coughed pointedly into his fist.

'Impressive, elf,' she said after a moment of silence. A shout of alarm echoed through the area as the bandits realized that their companion was gone and Valeka drew her war axe into her free hand. The young woman marched up the steps and met the first bandit. With mace and axe, she easily slew the man and her body rolled down the staircase. Faendal loosed arrow after arrow, striking the raiders in vital areas to allow Valeka to slay them easily. The marauders fell rather easily and quickly from their attacks and soon the vast courtyard was silent and empty.

Faendal and Valeka headed towards the vast doors up the steps and Faendal stared at the large doors in wonder. 'I wonder if these were for the dragons of old.' Valeka's head spun towards him at that.

'What?!' the shock in her voice was unmistakable. A look of fear passed over her face and became haunted.

'Did you not know?' Faendal questioned. 'These old temples were also where your people worshiped dragons.' She stared at the architecture with new eyes and actually ran her hand across the carvings on the doors to the temple. Faendal winced a moment later. 'Oh, that's right. You remember nothing.'

Valeka grunted at that, suddenly becoming silent. Without a word, she opened the door and stepped inside. Faendal cursed himself for his mistake once and followed after her quickly. They stepped inside the area and immediately noticed all of the rubble around the area and skeever corpses. To the right was an elevated dais with an empty table and further inside was light from a fire.

Voices echoed through the massive chamber and the pair crept forwards slowly.

'Where did Arvel and the woman go?' A man's voice echoed through the chamber. The accent was definitely Nordic.

'Deeper inside. Probably to get a bit more privacy if you ask me.' A woman's voice answered and Faendal ground his teeth together. He continued to creep forward until he could see the bandits. A man and woman were huddled around the fire, close together, very close together. He drew two arrows and released them into the pair at once. The elf stood and continued inside the area, rage burning inside of his stomach.

Valeka followed him silently. Another bandit came across their path and received an arrow in the back for his trouble. The next room they found had three statues inside of the room, although the middle one had fallen ages ago. Luckily the iron gate was opened and they delved deeper into the area quickly. A set of circular stairs led them downwards towards a nest of skeevers and Faendal dispatched them easily enough. As they pressed onwards, Faendal's ears picked up the sound of voices. One he could not recognize, but the other he did.

'Camilla!' He shouted and ran deeper inside the tomb. He heard could barely hear the light footfalls of the Nord behind him and reached for another arrow. A scowl twisted his features as he realized that he was out. He drew the short sword along his belt after settling the elven bow onto the harness on his back. As he rushed down the hallway, he noticed webs slowly begin to cover the walls and frowned at that.

A scream rose deeper inside and he slipped into the chamber where the scream resonated from. Inside the nest of a spider, he paused for just the moment. A dark elf was backing away from a frost bite spider as large a horse. In front of him, and being used as a human shield, was Camilla Valerius. The sight of her torn outfit and bruises along her face made the rage flare deep in the pit of his stomach. With a shout, he quickly crossed the room and launched himself high into the air. He landed on top of the monster with a snarl on his face and placed his left hand on the spider that tried to buckle him off. He spoke sharp words of a spell and the feeble mind of the spider broke beneath him.

 _Attack the elf_ , _but do not harm the woman_ , the command burrowed itself inside the spider's head and the spider screeched its answer. The long forelegs easily separated the Colovian woman from the dark elf and its pincers clicked together eagerly as it approached the elf.

'No, no, no!' The elf screamed as the spider easily pierced him with its longs legs and knocked him to the ground. The pincers of the monster flickered together and began to feast on the man's innards. Faendal smirked in dark satisfaction as the elf begged for his life as the spider ate the insides of his stomach before he stabbed his blade into the spider's head. The monster collapsed and he jumped off as the elf's screams continued to echo in his ears.

He sheathed his steel short sword and quickly made his way towards Camilla. The Colovian woman was huddled in a corner, her arms covered over her knees as she rocked back and forth. He approached her slowly, kneeling in front of her.

'Camilla,' he muttered softly. 'Are you hurt?' The woman shook her head slowly. 'Did they… touch you in any other way?' The question was harder to say and came out far harsher then he intended. The woman trembled like a leaf, but she shook her head quickly.

'He… he was going to,' she muttered, closing her eyes and pressing them into her knees. 'He said he was going to pass me around-' Faendal cut her off quickly.

'Shh, it's alright now. I'm here and you are safe.' Faendal soothed her, his arms wrapping around her slowly and carefully. As soon as his arms were wrapped around her, she wrapped her own arms around him tightly, sobbing into his chest. He rocked her back and forth slowly, murmuring soft words into her ears.

A shadow approached him slowly and Faendal had almost forgotten about Valeka. The young woman had a small frown across her bare face and was holding a golden ornament in the shape of a claw in her hand. The other had a journal in it.

'Apparently, there's some sort of secret deeper inside this place.' She said softly. Her gaze refused to drift away from the small object and despite the situation, a small grin crossed his face.

'Go ahead. I'll stay here and we might catch up with you later.'

Valeka inclined her head slowly before she quickly turned on her heel and made her way deeper inside the tomb.

* * *

She left the elf and his wife behind. As she walked through an embalming chamber, she could not help but frown. Was she some sort of monster for leaving the two behind for a bit of treasure? Or was she that… selfish? Her mind was plagued with such thoughts that she barely dodged the blow from the undead warrior.

The shambling corpse drew back the giant warhammer and hefted it for another swing. She swung her mace into its left knee, shattering it, and setting its dry skin on fire. The flaming creature tried to attack her, but stumbled on its crushed knee and slumped over. She bashed its face in with her mace and the eerie blue eyes flashed out of existence.

Another of the creatures came shambling towards her. She quickly jumped back and leaned away from its axe swing. She arched her own weapon horizontally and the axe sliced through the monster neck. The undead coughed out dirt and dust and continued to charge her. The war axe slashed into her shoulder and she grunted in pain. With a growl, she slammed her mace head into its skull.

The restless dead slumped over and she hissed as she touched her bleeding shoulder. She closed her eyes as she touched the bleeding wound and thought back to the spell she learned. Whispering a few words, she found pale, golden light erupting from beneath her fingers and the healing spell went to work. The flesh knitted slowly back together and she sighed in pleasure as the pain receded.

'Always stay alert.' She whispered to herself. She sighed and made her way deeper into the tomb, avoiding the traps carefully and passed through the winding passages easily. The sound of rushing water passed through her ears and she found light at the end of one of the passages. The tunnel opened up to reveal a large, well-lit cavern with a waterfall. Another undead tried to ambush her, but she slew it quickly enough with a swing of her axe and mace. She followed the downstream path of the waterfall and soon reached another cavern where the stream dropped off into an open area with the open sky.

She approached the edge of the stream and stared down into the cavern and saw a monstrous creature standing on a stone bridge. The monster had hide the color of snow and was a hulking brute that brimmed with muscles. Three black eyes stared out of its grotesque face and she noticed it staring at her. It roared in her direction and beat its hands on the ground.

She growled at the beast as well and clashed her weapons together in challenge. A rope sat to her left and she saw that it trailed downwards towards a cliff where a broken Breton laid on the rocks. She took a weapon in her teeth, grasped the rope and rappelled down towards the body and grabbed the dagger on its belt. She tossed the dagger at the monster end over end and the beasts face rocketed back as the dagger caught it full in the face. Just when she was about to crown herself the victor, the beast faced her with a snarl.

It managed to get its paws across the weapon and tore it out of its face and before her eyes, the skin began to regenerate quickly back together and the monster let out a brutal sounding chuckle. It charged at her, it's apelike arms propelling it across the ground. At the lip of the stone bridge it launched itself though the air and landed near her with a roar. It swung its apelike arms at her, seeking to crush her beneath its brutal strength.

She quickly ducked aside as the monster's fist swung overhead and crashed into the side of the wall. The stone shuddered from its assault and she sliced it with her axe. The blade caught in its tough hide and she tried to pull it free. The monster roared in her face and back handed her away from the monster. The strike sent her over the massive chasm and she slammed into the stone bridge. A gasp escaped her lips as she rolled along the ground and she pushed herself quickly to her feet.

The monster growled in her direction, tearing out the head of her war axe out of its side. The monsters wound sealed close and it dropped the head of her axe to the chasm below. She stared at the shaft of her weapon and tossed it aside and took the mace in a two handed grip. The head of the mace lit up with the enchanted flames and the monster stared at the flames warily.

'Don't like fire I take it?' she taunted, taking a hand off the weapon and waving it around slowly. The three eyed monster watched it warily, bending low as the hair along its skin began to bristle. 'I know your weakness now, beast. Come at me again!'

With a low growl, the monster readied itself and pounced at her. The monster landed in front of her and reached out to grab her instead. With a yell, she stepped away from the beast and slammed the head of her mace into its right arm. The limb crunched as it broke and the flames licked greedily at its skin. The creature roared and tried to pat out the flames, but she never gave it a chance. Surging forwards, she crashed the weapon repeatedly into the hide of the monster. The roaring beast tried to stumble backwards from her renewed, fiery assault and failed. The crushing blows from her blade continued to weaken the beast until it was slumped on the ground in front of her, whimpering in pain. She crushed its head with an arching blow from the mace and the creature died with a pitiful moan.

She breathed heavily as she stood over the monster, her teeth drawled back from her lips. Her leather had been sliced by the monster's claws when it tried to beat her away and her ribs flashed in pain. A small groan escaped her lips and she sent more healing waves of power through her skin. The pain in her side settled into a dull ache and the clawed wounds slowly closed. She was tired, almost slumping towards the ground as she felt the magicka drain out of her.

She had dug deep into her magicka reserves for such a spell and still was not completely healed. She waited a bit until she felt the magicka in her slowly began to renew itself before she continued along her way. As she stared to leave, she managed to catch a glance downwards towards the waterfall and saw a chest. Quickly, she darted down the slope and waded through the water and tried to pull open the chest. It was locked. She crushed the lock with the head of her mace and the lock burst open.

She reached inside and pulled out the contents of the chest. A small stack of coins rested inside, along with a few odds and ends. A simple dagger and jar held a few precious gemstones. She placed them all in the pouches along her belt and as she took the last piece of gold, she stared at it in surprise.

It turned out that it wasn't gold, but a silver coin with an unknown shape on the face of it. She turned it around and peered at the unknown markings there as well. Frowning, she pulled out a septim from the modern times and stared at the head of Tiber Septim on the face and the Imperial Dragon on the back. Curious and her mind whirling with this new currency, she placed it inside her pouch. She would have to find someone to explain all of this to her later on.

She made her way back up the slope, ignoring the skeleton and headed away from the light and deeper into the tomb. As she continued on through the passage, she reached a well-lit room with a lone undead Nord. A large claymore sat in its hands and it currently rested along its shoulder. Valeka frowned deeply. She would have to invest in a bow at some point. The way Faendal had used the weapon had astounded her and on their small hunting trips through the forests, she had never seen the man fire an arrow in such a way. A sigh escaped her lips as she stepped deeper into the area and drew the undead attention to her.

It muttered strange words at her and she stomped forward. It raised the claymore up to heft the blade behind him, but she attacked quickly. Her mace head crunched into the chest of the monster and the enchanted runes along her weapon flared to life. The flames ate the undead from the inside out and soon she left it behind and disappeared between the doors.

Another trap tried to impede her progress, but she disabled it after passing by it and stepped into the main chamber. The main room consisted of two levels and a large batch of oil covered the lower area. The undead stepped down the stairs to reach her and she chuckled as they tried go after her. The head of her mace touched the oil and caught immediately. Hungry flames sprang up and around the undead, licking immediately at their parchment-like skin.

They fell silently to the roaring flames and Valeka had to climb up one of the rock walls to reach the second level. She strolled by various sarcophagi and burial urns, rifling through them to find more coins and other objects buried among the dead. A large iron door sat at the end of the room and she pushed the large doors open. The walls in the next room were covered in intricate words and carvings. She looked the walls over and tilted her head curiously in their direction. She could not help but wonder what they meant. Her fingers ran across the wall murals, her finger tips barely brushing against the carved walls.

She reached the end of the room and stared at the door in front of her with a sharp eye. It appeared to be a puzzle door of some sort. The locking mechanism needed a key to unlock it and she pulled the claw that hung along her belt. She pressed it into the holes in the door and tried to push it to the left, or right. The door remained locked shut tight. A small frown crossed her face as she looked over the claw over. The underside of the claw held an interesting set of animal carvings in the palm section of the claw. She closed her eyes in embarrassment and sighed. She slowly began to move the animal mechanisms into place.

Bear – Moth – Owl and slid the claw back into place twisting it once again like a key. The rumble of stone rumbling against the stone echoed through the room. Valeka stared as the animal mechanism twisted and twirled before settling and the shifting of stone grew louder. The door disappeared into the ground like some sort of yawning beast and soon she walked deeper into the area.

Bats flew down from overhead, screeching in her ear as they were disturbed and she ignored the flying mammals, batting a few of the chirping creatures away from her face. Up ahead was another well-lit cavern and a bridge. A staircase led upwards and sitting on top of the dais was a sarcophagus, a table, and a chest set nearby; that was not what drew her eyes.

Sitting in the back of the room was a large stone wall that made everything else appear tiny in comparison. The back middle section of the wall was carved in the likeness of a dragon head and the bottom of the wall was carved with various marks and writings. As she crossed the bridge, she heard a whisper echoing in her ears.

'What?' she questioned tilting her head slightly as she heard the whispered words. As she continued to walk up the path and staircase and the chanting grew louder. 'I can't understand you. What are you trying to tell me?' The words continued to whirl around her mind and she closed her eyes as she continued to walk.

' _Het nok Faal Deinmaar_ ,' the words continued to echo through her head. ' _Deinmaar do Dohvahgolz_ , _ahrk aan FUS do unslaad_ , _ruth ahrk vulom_.' She reached the wall and saw the glowing word.

'FUS,' the words escaped her lips and she closed her eyes as she the chant became higher. She clapped her hands over her ears and the words continued to repeat and resonate inside her head. The chanting became higher and rumbled through her head before the word 'FUS' settled deep inside of her.

The chant disappeared for a moment and she thought she heard the sound of stone breaking behind her. Her mace still rested in her hand as the sarcophagus broke apart. Without even waiting for whatever it was to appear she was over the stone, her mace hammering away at the undead that tried to arise. Her last savage blow sent the crushed remains of the monster's skull scattering across the room. Flames licked the lips of the sarcophagus and she backed away breathing heavily. She waited until the flames disappeared before she stared into the tomb of the Deinmaar… Guardian.

A stone tablet sat inside the tomb alongside the remnants of the Guardian and inside its hands was an old Nordic steel greatsword that flashed with runic script along the blade of the weapon. She pulled the stone tablet first, looking it over for just a moment. The words seemed familiar to her and the lines along it reminded her of a map before she quickly placed it inside her pack. The mace went into the loops along her belt and the Nordic steel greatsword was taken into her hand. The runes along the weapon flared with a blue light and frost began to dance along the blade of the weapon.

'A frost enchantment…' She muttered to herself and giving the large wall mural one last look. She looted the chest, finding a large pouch of the silver coins and more gemstones before she left the chamber, backtracking to Faendal and Camilla.

* * *

She found the pair huddled against the campfire in the entrance chamber of the area. Camilla had a wolf skin cloak around her shoulders and Faendal kept a stalwart watch over his wife. He noticeably perked up as she appeared from out of the darkness of the area.

'You've returned! Did you manage to find what you were searching for?' Valeka nodded her head, slightly frowning. 'Is something wrong?'

'No… something… strange just happened to me while I was inside.'

'Define strange.' Faendal said.

'There was this wall with a dragon on it and I heard this strange… chanting when I was inside. I got close to the wall and… something settled inside my head.' She reached towards her pouch. 'And I found this.' She pulled out the Dragonstone and held it out for Faendal to see. The wood elf raised his eyebrow slowly.

'Hmm… strange.' The elf ran his hand along his chin, a small frown on his face. 'Well… the only one I can think of who would know anything about dragons would be old Farengar up at Whiterun. Word has it that he's been looking for lore about the dragons for ages. But Dragonsreach is closed to everyone at the moment, but only those who have the court's or Jarl's approval can get inside.'

'Looks like I'll be heading towards Whiterun then.' A small frown appeared on her face at that. If what Faendal said was true, it would take a miracle to get to Dragonsreach, but it never hurt to try. She crouched down next to Camilla and pulled out the golden claw. 'I believe this belongs to you, my lady.'

She stared at the ornamental claw with an unknown look passing between her eyes and never took it. Valeka frowned at that, looking towards Faendal. He shook his head slowly.

'She's been like this for a while now. Shock, but hopefully she'll be fine with rest. Here,' Faendal grabbed the claw from her and put it in his own bag. 'I'll get this back to Lucan and explain everything that happened.' The wood elf looked around carefully. 'You may want to start heading towards Whiterun, friend. I'm sure the path downwards is safe enough to travel by ourselves.' Valeka shook her head slowly.

'I need to get more supplies from the city, so I'll head back down with you two. Who knows; there could be more of those brigades hiding in the mountains.' Valeka replied with. Faendal nodded his head slowly.

'We'll then, we better get going. It should be getting dark soon and I'd rather at least make it to the watchtower and rest there if anything.'

Valeka inclined her head briefly and soon they all left Bleak Falls Barrow behind them.

* * *

A/N: The words that the walls are the ones you usually see on the World Walls.


	6. Whiterun

A/N: Ahh, finally, we get to Whiterun. I have tried to capture the city as the best as I can and hope I can breathe life into such a massive city. Unlike in vanilla Skyrim, hopefully this one takes time to pass through.

And Happy Labor day everyone. This part came rather quickly and I'm happy to publish it on this labor day!

 _Whiterun_

She had left Riverwood by midday. A carriage was passing through from Oakwood to make the journey to Whiterun. Valeka had been one of the first on the carriage and had all her belongings gathered as the carriage passed through. After saying her goodbyes to Gerdur and Hod, she had left the village with only one other person that had to journey towards Whiterun. The carriage ride was going by rather quickly and she relaxed against the side of the carriage.

'It's a nice day to travel.' An Altmer dressed in dark robes sat beside her. She wore a robe with a clasp on the front. The strange emblem was a flipped five pointed star with an eye sitting in the middle of it. The robes themselves were a solid black color with golden lining. The breastplate of the robes was padded and lined with ornament lines. A golden mask in the shape of a smiling woman rested along her belt. Valeka stared at the mask curiously. 'It's in the shape of the Tribunal from Morrowind. The robes are crafted in the same likeness.' Valeka was startled as the elf's amber eyes landed on her own. They appeared to glow in their sockets. A small feeling of… something passed through her as she looked into those bright eyes.

'The Tribunal?' Valeka questioned, tilting her head slightly. The woman turned her full attention on her, eyes lighting up in surprise.

'You haven't heard of the Tribunal from Morrowind? The three gods that ruled over Morrowind and the Dunmer people for thousands of years?'

'I can't say I have… I… have amnesia. Can't remember much anything really.' Valeka frowned at that. 'It's almost been a month or so since I've been… alive.'

The Altmer stared at her intently. The woman's stare made her slightly uncomfortable and she crossed her arms across her chest and glared at her.

'What?'

'Nothing… I just never thought I'd hear of something that strange. I suppose amnesia does happen, but usually those who have it lose their wits, or become a vegetable state.' The amber eyes continued to stare at her. 'I suppose your one of the lucky ones. I'm Elaninde… Elaninde Caemoth.' She held out her hand to shake.

'Valeka,' she responded shaking the woman's hand.

* * *

For the rest of the trip, she and Elaninde spoke to each other. Elaninde Caemoth was a rather interesting woman. The elf had been born sometime in the Third Era. The date was four hundred eighteen which made her over three hundred years old. She had been born somewhere in the Summerset Isles and her family had left long before the Third Aldmeri Dominion was a thought. She grew up mostly in Cyrodiil and had seen the three gods brought down by the Nerevarine in Morrowind and fought during the Oblivion Crisis back in Cyrodiil years later.

'I had been a novice mage by then…' she said on the first night they had made camp. 'I lazed around home for the first hundred years of my life, seeking guidance from my parents. They died a bit after the Nerevarine disappeared and I decided to be a healer. Then I decided to try studying all the schools of magic and well…' she shrugged. 'Here I am.'

Valeka's mind was slowly trying to figure out all of it. Elaninde had accomplished so much years and yet she only looked a few years older than her. Her mind was almost exploding at the thought of being able to live that long. She wondered what she would be able to accomplish if she had such a long life span.

Probably find out exactly who I was before all this, she thought, staring up into the cloudless night sky.

Most of the conversations were rather one sided, but thankfully Valeka listened rather well. Elaninde knew enough that the conversation never became dull and if the occasional input from the carriage drive was any indication, she was correct about most of the things. Valeka had once asked why she needed to go to Whiterun and she had replied that she was there for College business.

On the final day of the journey, they trailed up a rise and the carriage driver called out: 'Just over this hill and you'll see Whiterun. We'll reached the city in a few hours afterwards if we keep to the main road.'

Valeka was actually excited to see what Jarl Balgruuf had accomplished and she was not disappointed as they reached the top of the hill.

Whiterun was a massive city. A large stone wall surrounded the entirety of it, stretching outwards for leagues. The stone was crafted well and made out of grey granite. She could see guards patrolling the walls of the city and from this far away they appeared like ants. Dragonsreach sat at the top of a mountain and constructed based on the ornate wooded style of great Nord longhouses in the ancient eras, filled with timber and beam structures along with arched windows. A stone prison erupted out of the back of the building, crafted from granite as well and Elaninde had mention it had been used to capture a dragon. She could see clouds of smoke rising out of the Plains district of the city and assumed that was where everything that was being crafted and processed at.

The farmlands around the city were manned heavily and fortified heavily with watch towers; farms and farmhands moved among the plantations. Guards patrolled the main road heavily and the carriage made its way slowly down into the valley that the city sat in the center of.

After an hour, they reached the bottom and continued along their way. The guards watched them as they passed by silently, their hands near their swords. Valeka frowned at the sight before shaking her head. Elaninde appeared unconcerned and lounged in the back of the cart with a small smile across her face. The mage was waving her fingers back and forth through the air, a small ball of fire darting in between her fingers.

'How can you be so relaxed at a time like this?' Valeka questioned. The mage chuckled softly.

'I've been to Whiterun dozens of times. Once you see it once and get to know it… well certain things just don't surprise you anymore.' The elf chuckled at that and paused the ball of fire, watching it dance along the point of her index finger.

They passed by more guard towers and barricades and Valeka realized just how fortified this place was. Gerdur had not been joking about Jarl Balgruuf making sure his home was one of the most secured places in the providence. It would certainly take a long time to hold a siege over this place.

'This is amazing… the Jarl has fortified this place well.' Valeka muttered, staring at the walls that towered at least fifty feet over her head.

'It is a great wall, but wait until you get inside the city, you'll see what all of this cost,' Elaninde said ominously. The mage held the ball in her hands and slowly watched as it flickered and died before she too looked up at the walls.

Valeka frowned in her direction.

They reached the stables at the base of the gate and handed over the septims needed for such a ride. Valeka grabbed her trunk full of goods and dragged it off the carriage, breathing heavily. Elaninde held her own without any difficultly, smirking in her direction. As she continued to struggle, the elf shook her head.

'Here,' she waved her hand over the trunk, casting a spell. 'Go ahead and try it now.'

Valeka effortlessly pulled the trunk from the rest of the carriage, her eyes widening in surprise and she hefted it over her head as if it were air. 'How did you do that?'

'Feather light charm.' The woman shrugged her shoulders. 'No mage goes without one at least. I think I have a spell book on it somewhere in my own trunk. I'll let you read it, so you won't have to heft your own around everywhere.'

'Thanks,' she mumbled. Elaninde waved her off and the pair made their way up the city. As they climbed up the path, there were barely any people in sight and only a few trailed downwards from Whiterun. They received more looks from the guards from overhead as they passed beneath a heavy iron gate and soon were at the large wooden doors of the city itself.

The guards let them inside after checking their belongings and soon Valeka got her first look at the inside of the city. Her first sight was the large market place of Whiterun. Stalls were spread out across the massive courtyard of the city where its owners shouted prices of their goods in the air. She saw a large influx of people of all shapes, races, and colors. Not surprising since the city was the trading hub of the whole providence.

A Dunmer was shouting about vintage beverages from Morrowind; an Orc was speaking about high quality Orcish steel to a group of Redguard sell swords. A dark elf and Argonian – one of the lizard folk – were arguing over the price of a silver amulet.

Whiterun guards in yellow surcoats and chainmail patrolled the area with a rather keen eye. Their arms were held close to each other as they marched their way back and forth through the crowd that gave them wide berth.

A group of Redguards in flowy armor were huddled together and speaking among each other. A caravan of Khajiit kept stood together, selling a few wares from the back of the caravan itself.

'Keep a close eye on your coin purse, Valeka.' Elaninde warned as they stepped inside the crowd of people. Valeka inclined her head, untying the pouch and putting it inside the folds of her leather chest piece. Even as the pouch rested there, her mind wondered if she could try to build seams into the lining of her pocket and keep it secured there.

The young woman tried to take in all the sights and smells that washed over her as they marched through the marketplace. The sharp smell of spices and food filled her nostrils: the spice and sauces from a meal from Hammerfell; a roasted pig that hung from an Orc's stall. Her senses were practically alive as she tasted the air and her mouth watered. The cooked meals on the road from Riverwood appeared like a delicacy as she walked through the aromas of the marketplace.

The sounds slowly shifted however as they walked out of the market place and headed towards the crafters row. The air became heady with acrid smoke and the familiar smell of metal burning. Her ears were assaulted with the sound of metal ringing against metal and she noticed a woman working heavily at a blacksmiths forge. A pile of swords sat nearby her, each of them were crafted of iron. A man in the garb of an Imperial soldier approached her and they're conversation echoed in her ears.

'Are you almost finished with those swords for the Legion?' The arrogant voice carried over the din of the metal.

The woman scowled deeply at him and spat at his feet, holding the hammer at him threateningly. 'I already told you Idolaf! If you want your precious swords for your legion, you'll take up the hammer yourself instead of lying about all day! I don't have time to craft your damned blades!'

The man grew angry. 'My family's been here for years Avenicci! You should be thankful that I waste my time coming to your-'

'You've said the same empty threat for months, old man! Blah blah blah "Honor of Battle-born" blah blah blah "I'll tell the Jarl of this" blah!' the woman snorted in derision. 'I told you to ask Gray-Mane if you really need your swords.'

A snort and the man said: 'Gray-Mane would never make steel for the legion-'

'And I won't either!' The woman roared at him, slamming the hammer savagely against the workbench. She suddenly spun on her heel and grabbed one of the swords, spun around and tossed it at the man's feet. 'Here! This is the only steel I'll make for you! Go and use it for your precious legion! Now get the hell out of here and suck up that damn pride of yours and ask Gray-Mane! I have enough time on my hands to make steel for Whiterun and Whiterun ONLY!' With that, she began to hammer the blade in front of her, ignoring the old man completely.

The imperial garbed man searched for words before he picked up the blade and marched off, muttering words beneath his breath the whole way.

Elaninde chuckled softly. Valeka stared at the scene in surprise.

'Does that happen often?' she questioned the laughing woman.

'Enough times. I've seen the scene play out multiple times already, but Adrianne never gave him an ultimatum like that. Must be tired of his shit.' The mage shrugged and continued along her way.

Valeka followed after the woman. 'Who is he? Sounds like a noble from some sort.'

'He is,' Elaninde confirmed. 'Idolaf is the patron of Clan Battle-born; one of the members of the Jarl's Court. He's the most stubborn man in existence and refuses to follow the tradition of neutrality of Whiterun. He's been whispering in Balgruuf's ear for ages now about siding with the Empire, but Adrianne's father is in the Court as well. He's the Jarl's Steward and has a much higher standing than him. Shuts the man down every single time he tries to voice how great the Empire's help will be. No one listens to him too much.'

'You sound like you've been to the Jarl's court before.' Valeka commented. Elaninde winked in her direction.

'I have. You should see it sometime. Hopefully you'll be able to by the end of the day. It's rather humorous to watch actually.'

'Wait… you want to help me out?' Valeka paused underneath the shadow of another blacksmiths forge, staring at the woman in surprise.

'Of course,' the woman said, waving her hand idly. 'But first we need to meet a friend of mine. My words definitely won't be enough to get you inside there, but with him… you'll be sailing straight through everything.'

The pair continued on. 'Who do you know that can get inside the Jarl's court that quickly?'

'The Harbinger of the Companions and Thane of Whiterun himself.' Valeka paused once again at that, turning towards her incredulously. Elaninde chuckled softly, shaking her head. 'Flies, dear.' She said, using the tip of her index finger to close her mouth. 'Come along. He should be at the forge actually. Let's see what he's doing at the moment, shall we?'

* * *

They had left behind the markets district and the edge of crafters row to journey to the next tier of the city. The Wind District was much nicer than the Plains section, it horseshoed around the higher Cloud District and Dragonsreach still stood higher than the rest. The smell of smoke and food was behind them and the air smelled noticeable cleaner up here. The stairs they went up deposited them right outside of the massive park in the center of the city. Children and families were running through, or walking through the park, noticeably enjoying their time outside. A few of the families were staring at a small sapling in the middle of the park.

She noticed that there were two temples at both ends of the park. Elaninde explained to her that the one to their left was the Temple of Kyne and the other was to the Eight Divines.

'I thought there were Nine?' Valeka commented as she pointed out the Temple of the Eight.

Elaninde gave her a sharp look. 'Never say that in public… only in pleasant company, or in private.' She pointed out the large building that sat nearby the Temple of the Eight. A lone Altmer in the black robes of the Aldmeri Dominion stood outside of the massive building. The Embassy was host to diplomats from all over the providence and it looked like even the Thalmor had a place here.

Valeka inclined her head to show that she understood and continued along with Elaninde. They passed through a few homes that dotted a side road that led towards the Skyforge. They passed through another craftsman's guild, this time going through the surrounding buildings; hearing and seeing the citizens of Whiterun practicing their trade outside on small models of homes.

They passed through rather quickly and soon enough, they reached a massive statue carved into the very mountain itself. The shape was a large eagle, its chest glowing with a large forge fire. The orange glow played with the beast's breast, making it seem like it was alive with fire. The area itself radiated power and Valeka felt a hum resonate through her as she approached the Skyforge.

She watched as Elaninde froze up for a second, bared her teeth in a snarl, before she relaxed and continued along her way. She frowned in confusion and opened her mouth to speak, but the mage waved her off. 'I'll explain it later.'

An impressive staircase – carved out of the mountain as well – lead upwards as well and she heard the sound of a hammer being struck against metal soon enough. The working of the forge carried through her ears and Elaninde reached the top first, a small smile appearing on her face. Valeka trailed behind her and stopped in surprise as she saw the figure working the forge.

He was a broad-shoulder giant in blacksmiths uniform with skin of dark brown. The Harbinger of the Companions hair was cropped short and close cut, framing his handsome features. Dark brown eyes stared out beneath his thunderous brow as he continued to work the metal on the workbench. A hammer the size of a child sat comfortably in his right hand as he hammered a shape into the weapon. As the hammer crashed into the weapon again, Elaninde called out:

'Razahir!' The hammer paused and the giant looked towards them, a small frown passing over his face and his right brow rose slowly. As his gaze settled on the mage a warm smile passed across his face. He placed the hammer on the large workbench and faced them along with the Nord at his side.

'Well, well,' the deep, resonate voice easily carried over the roar of the forge. 'If it isn't the witch herself, Elaninde Caemoth. I was just speaking to Eorlund over here about you.' The white haired Nord in a simple blacksmith's apron snorted and inclined his head in agreement.

'Good things, I hope?' She responded with. The pair of blacksmith's glanced in each other in amusement and chuckled together.

'Of course, of course,' they both said at the same time and chuckled. Elaninde narrowed her eyes at them, placing her hands on her hips. They both held up their hands in surrender. 'We're serious. We just had a slight chat about the last time you came into the court. Using enchanted stones, you suggested has been on both of our minds and we decided to try and recreate the whole process.'

'You succeeded I take it? Your enchantments are way stronger than my own. Sometimes I wonder how you're not a mage.' She replied.

The giant Redguard shrugged his powerful shoulders. 'I prefer the blade way more than magic. I know a few of the spells you taught me, but,' he shrugged his shoulders helplessly and then his eyes settled on her. Valeka met his stare full on and was surprised at the deepness of the man's eyes. They were sharp and fierce and she noticed that a hint of silver swam in those pools of brown. A shiver traveled down her spine as she felt the powerful gaze.

'And who is this? Another one of your friends?' The question hung in the air and Eorlund's eyes flashed towards her as well. She noticed that they were sharp as well, those his did not have the silver inside of the Harbingers.

'This is Valeka,' Elaninde introduced. 'She's a friend, I met when we passed through Riverwood. She needs to meet with the Jarl.'

The giant raised his brow and crossed his arms over his chest. The muscles noticeably strained against his skin, the veins in his arms dancing like snakes. Eorlund snorted next to him and shook his head.

'Just because you think your friends with the Harbinger, doesn't mean you can just drag anyone before the Jarl and he will listen.' Eorlund said moving towards another workbench. The man raised a sword to his eyes and looked it over. 'We don't even know where she's from. She could be an Imperial spy.'

Elaninde shook her head. 'She's not. Besides, I would be much more interested in what she came across in Bleak Falls Barrow.' The pair's eyes locked onto Elaninde and Eorlund dropped the blade back onto the bench and soon their gaze went back to her.

'Did you find a stone there, written in some strange language?' Eorlund questioned, his voice tight in his excitement.

'Err… yes, is it important?' She questioned, hesitantly. Razahir held up a hand instead.

'May we see it first? If its described just like Farengar said, we will go and see the Jarl at once.' Razahir shook his head slowly. 'Aela's going to be angry when she finds out its not there.'

Valeka placed the trunk on the ground and pulled it open. She went through it and found the stone deep beneath her belongings and pulled it out. The small gasps from both men let her know that this is what Farengar thought.

'May I?' the Redguard questioned, holding out his hand. She handed it over to the man and he placed it on Eorlund's workbench. The old Nord crowded next to him and the pair looked it over carefully. They stared at it silently for a few moments and the pair nodded their heads. 'This is it, Eorlund. She's actually found the Dragonstone!'

'You know what it is?' Valeka questioned as she too crowded around the workbench. She felt small and diminutive next to the giant of a man. She barely reached his mid chest area!

'Yes – Farengar Secret-fire – the Jarl's Court wizard has been searching for this stone for quite some time. He collects things that are from Dragon Wars and recently he heard about this little piece from a friend of his. He barely collected enough gold to send the Companions up to Bleak Falls and get this.'

A small frown crossed Razahir's face at that. 'Guess we won't be getting paid for that.' The giant muttered before he handed the stone tablet back to her. 'Well then, looks like Elaninde is right. You are going to be introduced to the Jarl earlier than expected. Don't say anything, smart ass.' The giant said towards the elf that was just about to open her mouth. Elaninde closed it with an audible snap. 'Care to see the Jarl with us, Eorlund?'

The old Nord shook his head. 'I'll pass this time. I have to finish up these weapons and go home to see Fralia. She received news from Thorald recently and those old steps will be the death of me one day.' The old man chuckled softly, taking up the blade once more.

'Send your family, my regards,' Razahir chuckled with the man and waved. He turned towards them. 'Let's be on our way. I'll have to make a stop in Jorrvaskr before we head to Dragonsreach. Keep that close to you.' Razahir inclined his head at the stone and then he made his way towards the stairs. Valeka placed the stone back inside the truck, closed it and locked it. Elaninde cast her spell once again and winked in her direction.

'Told you, I'd get you there.' She said with a wink.

'Thanks… for not mentioning anything else.' She replied with a small smile.

The elf nodded her head and they quickly followed after the giant of a man. The Redguard knew the streets well and they passed through alleyways and buildings before they reached a staircase that led upwards to the Cloud District.

'Hail, Harbinger,' the gates to the Cloud District opened slowly for the man and the giant inclined his head in their direction.

'Halfnar,' Razahir greeted the guard that pulled open the gate. 'Family doing all right?'

'They're swell, my lord. They send their thanks as well. My son is still gushing over the dagger you made for him and the necklace my wife has still sparkles!' The guard said with a large smile.

'Good, is your chain mail still holding up?'

'Aye, hasn't gotten a scratch yet. Your work is flawless as ever, lord.'

'The best for Whiterun,' Razahir said with a small smile. He waved his hands at her and Elaninde. 'Hopefully, you won't mind these two passing through as well? They're with me.'

'Of course, sir, make sure they keep out of trouble.' The guard replied earnestly.

'Will do, continue the good work, Halfnar and do let me know when you want me to look over that sword of yours,' Razahir smiled, revealing bright white teeth in his dark face and soon they passed through the gate.

Valeka was surprised at the sight. The Cloud District homes were better furnished than the rest of the city. They were made of heavier stone and wood, the house showing the great craftsmanship of an architect that enjoyed their work. A few shops were selling high quality goods, but most of the area was filled with large manors. Razahir led them through the wide, winding streets slowly. Valeka felt under dressed compared to the other nobles that they were among.

A Redguard in finery, lined with gold sneered in her direction as they passed by him. A look from Razahir stopped whatever the man thought to say and he quickly disappeared. Razahir led them down another street and at the end of it was a large building in the shape of an upturned long boat.

The courtyard in front of the building was massive and rows of soldiers in steel armor with wolf characteristics carved into them trained. Some fought among each other, duels that were fought one on one. Others were following a strict orders of a massive Nord in steel armor. As Razahir appeared in the courtyard, they all turned towards the giant man.

As he strolled by them, some bowed, or spoke 'Harbinger' in revered tones. The Redguard smiled at all of them as he passed by, waved at others, or called out their names in greeting. The mead hall of Jorrvaskr was elaborately crafted, showing much greater age to the building. The place gave off a rather homely appearance despite it being a hall for warriors.

As they approached the large doors, the man paused outside and turned to face them. 'Just give me a moment and I should be out in a bit. Feel free to watch them. Who knows, you may even learn a bit from them.' The man threw open the doors and the sounds of cheers and revelry echoed in her ears. The heavy smell of mead washed over her nose and made Valeka stagger back at the smell. The doors closed and she felt slightly dizzy as the aroma slowly began to disappear.

'Ugh,' Elaninde sniffed distastefully. 'Smells like a brewery every single time. How can someone consume so much alcohol and still function like a normal person?' She brought the sleeve of her robe to her nose and tried to block out the rest of the smell.

'It's a fine smell to welcome one home, mage.' A voice rumbled to her left. Valeka turned towards him and almost stepped back in surprise. A large Nord in steel armor stood nearby. She was surprised by the man that managed to creep up next to them without a clang in his armor. A shield rested across his broad back and belted at his side was a steel sword with the pommel in the shape of a wolf's head. The warrior had dark, shaggy hair that reminded her of a bear. His eyes were an interesting shade of blue and reminded her of chips of ice.

'And I suppose that's supposed to be impressive?' The woman challenged and wicked light entering her eyes. 'Then again, I suppose all dogs need a place to lie their head at night.' The silence was heavy for a moment before the Nord laughed.

'You've already used that one before Elaninde. I must say, you're losing your touch. I recall a time when your tongue was far sharper than this.' The continue his rumbling chuckle and the Altmer flushed. Valeka grinned at the color that was gathering at the golden skin of her cheeks.

'Shut up, Vilkas, or was it Farkas?' The scowl that appeared on the man's face let the barb struck home. Elaninde smirked.

'You know damn well who I am, woman.' The man barked.

'Yes, yes, I know Vilkas.' The elf stared at him. 'Where's your brother? He's usually somewhere around here striking a training dummy with his large sword.'

'He's off on business that the Harbinger gave him.' The man crossed his arms across his chest. 'I assume you know what it is?'

'Of course,' she tilted her head in Valeka's direction. 'She managed to get the object in question. 'Fraid your brother is going on another pointless errand.' The man turned to her.

'This whelp? She barely looks like she could hold her own,' the man dismissed and Valeka growled at him.

'I managed to get the stone and I bet I can take you in a fight.' The words came to her throat suddenly and she barely paused as she realized that she would not say such a thing before.

'Oh? Is that a challenge I hear?' The man questioned, smirking in her direction. 'You think you can test your steel against the might of a Companion?'

Before she could respond, the door to the mead hall opened and Elaninde began to gag again. 'Enough, Vilkas, if you want to fight her, do it later.' The giant had returned and he was dressed in a high collared doublet of black and brown. A golden necklace rested along his neck, and the pendant was in the shape of a trinity star with a large, flawless amethyst resting in the center of the pendant. Rings adorned his long fingers and Valeka noticed that they all had some sort of precious gemstone along them. A diamond rested in his ear and Valeka could not help but wonder why the man had dressed himself so… highly.

'You certainly have cleaned up nicely,' Elaninde commented and the man raised a brow in her direction.

'One doesn't head to court in their work clothes. Always see to make an impression on people no matter what.' The giant stated.

'Not taking Terminus with you today?' Vilkas commented, his own brow raised in interest.

The giant sighed. 'No… the enchantments have run out already and I need a few more soul gems to fill it completely. Farengar's shipment has not arrived just yet and I should not need it today.' A grin crossed his face. 'I'm not defenseless without my sword. Remember, I'm a living weapon.' Vilkas chuckled at that and brought his fist towards his chest and bowed.

'Hail, Harbinger,' his gaze settled on her own for a bit and he smiled at her. 'Be seeing you, whelp. We'll see how good you are with that mace.' He turned on his heel and marched off, heading towards a group of Companions. Valeka growled in his direction.

A massive hand clasped her shoulder and almost caused her to stumble to the ground. 'Relax, friend, Vilkas means nothing by it. He greets everyone like that; prove yourself to him in battle and he'll respect you enough in time. Took me almost bashing his skull in to realize that I was a formidable foe.' Valeka stared up at the man in surprise, running her hand across her shoulder. The damn thing ached! The man's strength was incredible!

'You almost had to crush his skull in for him to realize that?!' She exclaimed massaging her shoulder.

The rumbling laughter that came from him sounded like thunderstorm. 'A tale for another time; Dragonsreach awaits us and I'm sure the Jarl already has enough on his hands. Let's meet with him quickly and be on our way.'

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A/N: For those who are curious the Harbinger, Guild Master, Listener, and Archmage are going to be PC characters that I've played with over the course of my Skyrim games (Razahir was one of the first and I have a fondness for the Companions) and are going to take the place of the higher titles such as Harbinger, Guild Master and Nightingale(unsure if I'll separate them into two different people) and Listener and quiet possibly the Thanes of all Holds. Some will be joint like the situation of Whiterun(don't worry Lydia shall become the huscarl to Valeka). Due to my fondness of the Companions and Razahir, he will take up the position of Vampire Hunter as well, since the Dawnguard (to me) felt like another Silver Hand and Isran needs to be slapped around a bit to not follow the same path as those bastards.

They'll have a bit of screen time every now and then to show them off and hopefully show that the Dragonborn is not all powerful just yet. No worry, by the end of this tale, she shall be a powerhouse in her own right and most likely even stronger than everyone else with her Dragon soul and fighting among the others.

The robes that Elaninde is wearing are from the Immersive Armors mod and it is the Tribunal set of robes and the mask is the silver one with gold in place of the silver. The necklace is part of the Jewel craft(and more mods, not really sure which one) set and its the Dwemer Trinity Talisman recolored. I recommend both mods to add more into your game if you dislike the vanilla jewelry and like to style up your characters.

Thank you to everyone who is reading and to those that have taken the time out of your day to review.


	7. The Court of Jarl Balgruuf

A/N: This chapter will most likely be a filler chapter just to get the whole politics and current situation of Whiterun out into the air. Not really good at explaining all of this economics, so hopefully it doesn't sound to stale, or long winded.

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Chapter 7

 _The Court of Jarl Balgruuf_

The hall of Dragonsreach was alive with the sound of arguing nobles. The main central chamber was massive; holding a long table that covered the entire great hall and between it was a large fire pit. The tables themselves were filled with arguing nobles: some argued about the state of their holdings and who's harvest was going to feed the city and others argued about the state of the bank in the hold. The bank of Whiterun was running dry once more and the complaints levied against it were loud like always.

Slouching in his throne, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater ran his hand over his long, tired face as the arguing reached a higher crescendo. A headache was already forming behind his eyes and a tired sigh escaped his lips. Irileth – his stalwart huscarl – looked towards him from her position at his left side. Proventus Avenicci gave him a worried look at his right. His Left and Right Hand respectively. Proventus was his voice when he was too tired to speak and Irileth was his sword and shield when his arms became tired. A rather nice thing to have in these times. They were both loyal and even though Proventus gave ground at times, he was still a capable man. Shrewd if anything, but most Imperials were like that.

'Would you like me to clear the court, my lord?' Most elves could not show the worry in their eyes, but Balgruuf had known her long enough to detect her emotions. They had been forged together in battles and much more long ago and no doubt, she could detect his own emotions as much as he hers.

He straightened slightly in his chair and he shook his head slowly. 'No, let them speak. They'll drain their voices soon enough and soon I will tell them what will happen. They just want their points known and hopefully sway my opinion. I will always stand for the good of Whiterun and if they cannot see that,' a small frown crossed his tired face. 'I will deal with them myself.' His eyes looked outwards and towards the large hall of his court and frowned thoughtfully. 'Eorlund and the Harbinger are not here.'

'They're working at the Skyforge like always, lord.' Proventus frowned slightly at that. Balgruuf let a weak smile cross his face at the man's obvious disapproval. Funny, his daughter worked a forge all day, but then again, she had never taken a day at the court. The Harbinger and the head of Clan Gray-Mane on the other hand… 'I wonder if he has sent the Companions to fetch Farengar's stone? Probably got distracted by that forge of his.'

At his other side Irileth snorted loudly. The Court did not even hear the woman, but he was certain his brother did. The second Thane of Whiterun turned towards him, a brow raised in slight interest. Balgruuf shook his head at Hrongar slightly to show that it was nothing of importance. The man inclined his head and went back to the shouting match that had broken out between Jon Battle-Born and Vignar Gray-Mane for the hand of Olfina Gray-Mane. Jarl Balgruuf briefly frowned at such a display. The civil war had destroyed friendships and if he recalled correctly, the young woman continued to court the Battle-Born noble in secret. To be young again…

'Do not let him catch you saying that. He'd crush you like an insect and as amusing as that would be, the Jarl needs you more. Your ties to the trade company continue to help us have enough gold to calm the rest of them.' Irileth stated.

Balgruuf had to agree with that. He had heard of the Harbinger of the Companions anger once. That had been when Kodlak still lived and Skjor had fallen. Word had it that the man had become something terrifying and savage; quick to anger and beyond reason in those moments. Luckily he had been sent to reclaim the Fort Greymoor before he had erupted and the bandits there had suffered for it. Balgruuf still wondered how no one had figured out the dark secret of the Companions when the reports had flooded in about how the bandits inside the fort had been mauled and torn apart by some sort of beast… Balgruuf ran his hand across his face again, wondering if all Jarl's kept certain secrets from the people. The Companions of Whiterun were needed however, even with their dark secrets held by the Circle.

'Speak of the devil and he shall come.' Proventus muttered and Balgruuf was slightly startled. He briefly wondered if he had spoken out loud before he realized that the Harbinger of the Companions had just finished climbing up the steps that led to the great hall… and with him were two women.

One was a familiar mage in dark robes with a gold mask along her belt and the other was a dark haired Nord with vivid blue eyes. She was clad in worn leather armor and beneath it, he could see the steel links of chain mail that showed from the holes in her armor. A trunk was in both of their hands and a small frown crossed his face.

'I wonder who he brings with him now? The woman in leather – do any of you recognize her?' His steward and huscarl both shook their heads. The frown became deeper and more pronounced. Instead of heading towards him, the Harbinger took the pair off to an adjacent chamber that lead to Farengar's study. The room was currently empty, the Court Wizard himself was sitting silently next to Hrongar, reading a book of all things. The mage appeared unconcerned with the people arguing around him, his face buried deep in the books pages and Balgruuf shook his head. Leave it to a mage to read in the middle of court. The Harbinger reappeared from Farengar's study and made his towards them; instead of grabbing a chair, he stood silently like always. His dark eyes met his own and the man gave a slight nod of his head.

Balgruuf tilted his own head slightly. The thane responded by tilting his head towards the study, staring at him intently, and then waving his hand at the court. Balgruuf nodded his head, understanding that the matter the man had silently brought up would be brought up after the court ended. He straightened in his chair and raised his voice slightly: 'Enough!'

The sharp command in his voice instantly silenced the hall. As one, they all turned towards him and he straightened fully in his throne and leaned slightly forwards. 'I have listened to all of your questions and heard all of your grievances; the first we shall discuss is the answer to whose crops we will be using to feed the city.' Balgruuf rolled his eyes at that. The crops would be used to feed the regardless and from both of the families. They would have to store others inside the warehouses in the Plains district and guard them heavily. The commoners would undoubtedly try to break through the warehouses, but they would fail. The Harbinger had already said his own people would watch them at night and would easily be able to find out who stole such goods. 'For now, the crops from the Gary-Mane's shall feed us until winter arrives. The rest will be put in the warehouses and then we will begin shipping it from Rorikstead.'

'Will we have enough coin to pay Rorikstead, my lord? The bank is running dry once again and soon the coin we have will be gone.' Vignar Gray-Mane spoke up at his side of the table. The old man glared sullenly at Olfrid Battle-Born that chuckled in scorn at that. It was a well-known fact that the Gary-Mane's (while having deep roots in the city) were almost out of coin themselves. The Battle-Born Clan themselves however were still well off and if the reports were true, not all of it was by strictly 'legal' means. Balgruuf had made sure that he understood and knew his city like the back of his own hand. He knew of the dealings between the Thieves Guild and Battle-Born clan; knew that both of the Gary-Mane's sons had departed deep into the night and fell into line with the Stormcloaks; knew that Clan Battle-Born just had to send word to Solitude and the Legion would be unleashed onto Whiterun; knew that the Gary-Mane's themselves were ready to take over if the Stormcloaks took over which was likely.

All of this he knew and yet he did nothing to stop it and just worked on making sure Whiterun was secured and would be able to hold against such an assault. And it would as long as he sat on this throne.

'We will,' Balgruuf rumbled. 'Proventus has made sure that the coins will continue to come in. We will be able to have enough food to last us through the winter and more if need be.' He dismissed any of the mutterings and tittering that went into the hall and moved to the next point. 'What is the state of the city?'

At his side, Proventus spoke up, holding onto a long roll of paper. _The Imperials loved their lists_ , Balgruuf thought as he looked at his steward. 'The same. The common folk still voice their terrible positions in the slums and how there is no work and clean water. They've been drinking from the sewer water just to have a drink.' A look of disgust passed over all of the noble's in hall and Balgruuf frowned at that. Half the people in the court would not lower themselves to drinking the water since everyone in the Cloud District and those in the Wind District had filtered water being brought to them.

'Do not look down on those lower than us,' Balgruuf said a small frown crossing his tired face. 'They are taking what they can and trying to survive. Send a few barrels of purified water down to the commoners.' The protest slowly started to rise in the court and the Jarl slammed his fist into the throne. 'If the commoners start drinking sewage, then we all will.' The Jarl grumbled, his threat hanging in the air. The court immediately quieted, looking away from the Jarl. A few turned their gaze away too slowly and he could see the contempt in them. His frown continued to deepen.

'They've also been protesting about the conscription to join the guard. They do not want to go against Ulfric if he decides to bring the war to Whiterun.' Balgruuf grinded his teeth together.

'If it's not one thing, it's another. How do they expect to earn wages if they refuse to do anything else except beg and do nothing?'

'The talk of the bank being empty has sent tongues waggling, lord. Some have outright refused to fight until they get paid and see the septims in their hands.' The Jarl of Whiterun growled low in his throat and he placed his hands on the arm rests of his throne. 'How did word get out in the first place?'

The nobles shifted in their seats and he noticed that Idolaf was squirming in his chair. He started to open his mouth to rebuke him in public, but then closed his mouth. That would not help matters at the moment. He would wait until they were in private.

'As of now, the word about the state of the bank will strictly beheld in court and only in the court! Am I understood?' The nobles all inclined their heads. 'Good.' He turned his gaze towards the Harbinger. The giant still stood silently, his arms held across his massive chest. 'How are the Companions holding up?'

'Better. Recruits are flooding in from all over the providence and we may have to start sending others elsewhere.'

'Explain,' replied Balgruuf.

'Jorrvaskr is filled to the brim with warriors. We're thinking of sending others out to the rest of the Holds; Hjaalmarch and the Reach have already approved of us sending men there.'

'Good. It's nice to see the Companions branching out once again.'

'Will there be enough coin to pay for their passage to the other Holds?' Vignar Gray-Mane spoke up, his eyes turning towards the Harbinger. The giant raised his hand, dismissing him.

'Whiterun will not have to surrender anymore coin. The Jarl's in the other Holds will pay them on their own salary. If anything, the Companions know how to fend for themselves. They will not complain about money.' The Harbinger straightened a cuff on his finery, a smirk across his handsome face.

'One less thing to worry about.' Balgruuf muttered and those in the court nodded. He waved his hand for Proventus to continue about the state of the city. Before he could speak, Farengar spoke up:

'Have you sent the Companions to Bleak Falls yet?'

The Harbinger let a small smile cross his face. 'No need. Someone already decided to help us without even knowing it. I've already sent word for the rest to return.'

'Where is this person at?' The excitement could be heard in the old wizard's voice.

'Around. I'll take you to them afterwards. I'm sure she has quiet the tale for us.' He said with a chuckle. Farengar continued to move back and forth in his seat. The mage reminded him of his children for a moment and he briefly wondered if they were still in their rooms. Whenever court was in session he tended to keep his children away from all the politics of it. They could deal with all of this later on in life. For now, he would deal with this even if his daughter insisted on wanting to be a part of all this.

'The walls are secured as ever and the Western Watch tower has finally been completed and is manned by guards.' Proventus continued, looking over the list. 'Production is still up and the recent iron we gained is already being shaped into weapons for the guard and building up a few of the siege engines you've requested. A small group of bandits were sighted on the outskirts of the city, but other than that, not much to report.' As he reached the lower part of the list a small frown crossed his face.

'What is it, Proventus?' The Jarl questioned.

The Skyrim born Imperial shook his head slowly. 'There's been some strange business of roaring up in the mountains to the south. The guards have been hearing the roars in the dead of night. Probably the giants, but other than that there doesn't seem to be anything else.' A small frown was on his face.

Balgruuf inclined his head slowly and then grunted: 'Send a few more guards to the watchtower and send a detachment of scouts out into the mountains. The giants are normally peaceful and if something were to agitate them is a cause for concern. Irileth,' said the Jarl in the woman's direction. The Dunmer nodded her head to show that she understood. 'Is there anything else?'

Proventus shook his head and the others all shook their heads as well. Balgruuf held back the sigh of relief. 'Good. You all are dismissed until tomorrow.' The court stood from their seats and quickly departed and the Jarl ran his hand across his face once more. Irileth bowed at his side and quickly departed. Proventus sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

'I need to have discussion with my daughter; if you'll excuse me.' The Jarl inclined his head in the man's general direction and sat on his throne for just a moment. His blue eyes traveled the length of the table and looked over the dark shadows that were high in the ramparts of the building.

'The things I do for my people.' The man muttered. A pointed cough signaled that he was not alone. His eyes turned towards the giant that stood a few feet away. Next to him was Farengar and the old mage stared at him what he recognized as pity. He tried to be anger, but found that he was too tired.

'It'll get better, my lord.' Farengar stated and the man waved him away.

'You tell me that every single day and I swear this crown gets slightly heavier afterwards.' The Jarl of Whiterun spoke bitterly, the frown twisted his face. He ran a hand through his long, blonde locks that were flecked with gray. He almost grabbed the ruby encrusted crown from his temples and casted it aside, but held back. 'What do you need, old friend?'

Farengar frowned. 'You wanted to know when we found the Dragonstone.' Balgruuf frowned. 'If you're too tired, milord, we can show it-'

'No, no. I said I wanted to see it for myself.' Balgruuf stood from his throne and felt his limbs creak beneath his skin. He was still as strong as he was in his youth, but the wariness of sitting in a throne all day was starting to catch up to him. How long had it been since, he had last held a sword? Could he still fight even with his bones creaking beneath his skin? He would have to find out some day, or at least start training in the yard again. He was still a tall and imposing figure and yet, the Harbinger towered over them all. The Jarl felt like a Breton standing next to him. Just how could one be that large? But he quickly wiped away his thoughts. He needed to see this stone. 'Lead the way, old friend.'

The mage quickly spun on his heel and made his way towards his study, the Harbinger and Jarl following after him silently. As the approached the doors to the study a woman's voice echoed through the hall.

'Father!' A woman with dark hair, blue eyes and clad in a fine dress stepped down from the grand staircase that lead towards the living quarters of Dragonsreach. Balgruuf thought about ignoring her, but decided against it. He knew there would be hell to pay later on if he ignored her at the moment. The Court mage and Harbinger both stopped, turning to face her quickly. Each of them bowed to her and she scowled in their direction. 'You know I hate when you do that.'

'Sorry, Lady Lydia, but it's required of us.' The Harbinger said. A small smile was on the giant's face. Balgruuf had seen that grin enough to realize the Harbinger knew what he was doing and was doing it on purpose. The thought made him smile slightly. His daughter – Lydia – had caught on as well.

'I would believe you, but I already know you're doing it to mock me,' Lydia said a fire igniting into her eyes. Balgruuf had seen that enough times in her own mother's eyes to know that she was less than amused. 'You may be the Thane of Whiterun, but that doesn't mean I can't take you!' And here mother's fearlessness as well. Just great.

The Harbinger's eyes lit up and Balgruuf could see the dark intent inside them. The Harbinger liked to be challenged and the false boasts of other mortals filled him with a wicked delight. Balgruuf knew that it was an aspect of the darkness that lurked inside the man and quickly put a stop to it.

'Lydia, you know that the Harbinger would destroy you in a real fight! Razahir! Enough badgering of my daughter!' The pair immediately went silent at the sound of the man's voice. It had become thunderous, easily carrying the anger that let everyone know why he was the Jarl of Whiterun. 'Lydia, do not let your stubborn pride be the end of you and Harbinger do not let your own arrogance get in the way for you. One day, a foe you're going to face will defeat you, and what will you have left then?' The giant remained silent, a blank look passing over his face. Balgruuf knew the word had stung and turned back towards his oldest daughter. 'Now what are you doing here? You know that you must stay with your brothers and sister when the court is in session.'

Lydia scoffed at that. 'They're old enough to watch after themselves. Frothar and Dagny are playing in their rooms and Nelkir was playing with his sword out on the Great Porch.' Lydia dismissed.

Balgruuf sighed. If it was not the court giving him problems, it was his children. He wanted to pull his hair out and scream, but settled on grinding his teeth together. 'What are you doing down here then?'

'I wanted to tell you that I am heading down to the garrison and practicing my sword arm.' She said and Balgruuf sighed. He felt the headache returning.

'Fine, but I want you back before nightfall.' He saw his daughter's jaw tighten, but she said nothing – nodding stiffly in reply and quickly turning on her heel, her skirts flowing behind her. He turned back towards the men who stared at him silently. 'Not a word.' He bit out and threw open the doors to Farengar's study.

Inside the room was a desk and enchanting and alchemy table behind it. The study was surprisingly large and scattered around it were all sorts of objects in the shape of dragons. Books filled with all types of stories decorated a shelf and a large board held various drawings of dragons themselves. Standing near the desk was the elf, reading a book. The dark haired woman currently leaned against the wall, a bored look across her face.

'Elaninde Caemoth,' Balgruuf greeted with a tired smile. The mage closed the book quickly and bowed in his direction. He waved the gesture away. He was tired of all the formality. 'Rise, friend. You should know that you do not need to bow to me. After that business with the raiders, you've proved yourself. Now the day grows late, what does your friend have for us?'

The woman that leaned against the wall moved towards a trunk at the foot of the desk. She opened it rather quickly and dug around inside of it before producing a large stone tablet. Farengar's gasp of astonishment echoed around the room. The stone shook the desk beneath it and Balgruuf had his first look at the stone. On its face was a map of sorts and there were marks on it in the shape of an 'x' that showed the various locations. The three men approached it slowly and peered into the face.

'It's a map of Skyrim.' Razahir commented. Farengar nodded, his eyes alight with an eager hunger.

'It's the location of all the dragon burial sites in Skyrim.' The wizard confirmed. He ran his long fingers against the carving along the wall and smiled. His eyes turned towards the woman in front of them. 'We have you to thank for this?'

The woman nodded her head slowly.

'Was there anything else inside the chamber?' The old man questioned. The woman hesitated for a moment and the wizard straightened. 'What is it? What happened? What did you see?' The questions were fired off rapidly and the woman looked anywhere else instead of the old wizard in front of her. Elaninde touched the woman's shoulder gently and a brief flash of light appeared under her hand. The woman noticeably calmed and Balgruuf frowned slightly.

'It's alright. Relax.' The elf soothed and then stared at Farengar. 'One question at a time. She barely remembers what happened already.' She gave the woman a supporting smile and the woman inclined her head.

'There was a group of bandits that had kidnapped the wife of a friend in Riverwood,' Balgruuf became slightly alarmed, his fingers curling into a fist.

'What? Who dares to try and hurt my people? Where were the guards that I stationed there?' The Jarl rumbled. Thunder was in the man's deep voice.

'A few bandits on the mountain,' she hastily explained. 'The guards apparently saw, but did nothing so the woman's husband and I decided to journey up into Bleak Falls.' Balgruuf grumbled beneath his breath.

'I take it that's where the bandits were held up?' Farengar interrupted. 'Why where they there?' he added after the woman nodded.

'They had stolen a golden claw from the general goods store.' She continued. 'I can't exactly remember when, but she was taken later. Faendal and I slew the bandits and rescued his wife, but I was curious about the claw and I decided to head deeper inside. There was some sort of mechanism up there that the claw unlocked.'

'The puzzle door,' the mage muttered. The woman nodded.

'Camilla said something like that…' she hesitated once more, but another flash of light whispered beneath the mages hand. 'Then there was this large chamber with a wall… a few of the words on it… glowed and there was this… whispering,' the woman mumbled softly, her eyes actually becoming slightly haunted. 'I did not understand what they said, but something happened in there.'

The gathered crowd looked at the woman in surprise. The woman became uncomfortable once again at the stares. Balgruuf looked towards the Harbinger and his court wizard. 'The legends…'

'Can it really be possible?' The Harbinger stared at the woman with a new interest, looking over her critically.

'She could be-' a raised voice cut off what Farengar was about to say.

'DRAGON!' The people in the study grew silent: Balgruuf noticed that the woman became pale as a ghost, appearing almost translucent; the same haunted look returned in her eyes in an instant. Elaninde let go of the woman's shoulder and her mouth dropped open in shock. Farengar actually turned away in surprise and eager anticipation. The Jarl ground his teeth together once again.

Irileth appeared at the doorway, her red eyes glowing with fire. 'My Jarl… you have to see this! It's currently attacking the western watch tower!' Balgruuf led the group out of the study and down the stairs and through the waiting hall. The guards and servants of Dragonsreach were all outside of Dragonsreach, standing in the vast courtyard of the hall.

From the courtyard once could see all of Whiterun beneath them and beyond. Absentmindedly, his gaze traveled toward the smoke where steel was being made for his city and to the slums that were obviously suffering, past the great walls that protected the city and looked towards his right. The Western Watchtower stood out like thumb on the plains. The grey walls could be seen from here, but that is not what drew his attention. It was the massive creature that was circling it. Even from this far away it appeared vast, easily half as tall as the tower.

'Irileth… sound the guard and get as many soldiers as possible.' Balgruuf stated as he continued to stare at the creature from legend. 'Razahir, the Companions will be needed as well; get as many of them together as you can. I will not allow this creature to slaughter the people in my hold!'

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A/N: And here we go another chapter. To me it feels like something is missing, but I can't put my finger on it at the exact moment. Probably has something to do with Whiterun still having a few more things that need to be dealt with, but I suppose we can get to all of that later on.

To those who have reviewed; thank you for your words and the follows!


	8. Dragon Rising

A/N: Well... it certainly has been quite sometime since I've posted. This chapter was scrapped multiple times as I tried to get to this and hopefully it doesn't sound too... similar to other stories. I will definitely have to go back to this one and re-edit it because some places feel... inadequate and things are brushed over.

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 **Dragon Rising**

'Look at the size of that thing.' Farengar Secret-Fire whispered in awe as he stood in the courtyard. Already, the nobles were quickly making their way towards the vast staircase that had lead up to the Jarl's hall. Irileth and the Harbinger were trailing after them, speaking among themselves as they walked. Valeka could only hear faint conversation from the pair and the way it sounded it was probably how much men they would need.

'Enough, Farengar.' The Jarl of Whiterun said firmly, his eyes not moving away from the flying monstrosity. The wizard immediately went quiet when he heard the steel in the man's voice and Valeka could not blame him. The Jarl's was a rather imposing man and his presence carried even if there was a tired look to the man's face. His blue eyes turned towards her and she met his heavy gaze. 'Farengar… what you were going to say earlier… can it be true?'

The old man looked at the woman, his hand running through his beard as he became thoughtful. Elaninde turned towards her as well and tilted her head thoughtfully. 'She did touch the tablet and what she said happened to her in the cave… it can be true. There's only one way to be sure, my lord.'

Balgruuf sighed deeply. 'I was afraid you were going to say something like that.' His gaze never wavered from her, however and he continued to watch her before he hardened his gaze. 'There is no time for ceremony, girl. Farengar sees something inside of you and I happen to see this as well. You're proven yourself capable by bringing the Dragonstone and I have a greater need of you. The guards and the Companions are great warriors, but they have never gone against the might of a dragon. I would like you to join them as well. If you do this for me, I will make sure that you will always be welcomed in my hold.'

'My Jarl…' Proventus spoke up and Valeka noticed that the man practically stood in the man's shadow. 'Are you sure? We don't even know who this woman is… the nobles will-'

'I know what they will say, Proventus! But it will be something she has earned! The nobles in my hold will keep silent against the few who have tested their mettle against a dragon and won!' The Jarl boomed. Another tired sigh escaped his lips and his shoulders slumped slightly. 'We need men, Proventus… all of the mercenaries have left the hold and only those who actually have stayed will refuse to fight for Whiterun.' The steward remained silent and Balgruuf sighed once again.

'I know your heart is in the right place my friend, but perhaps all of this will help us.' The Imperial inclined his head and turned away, making his way towards the hall. The Jarl watched him depart for a moment before turning to face Valeka once again. 'What do you say? Will you help us?'

'Doesn't look like I have much of a choice.' Valeka said. Her mind was still trying to wrap around what the silent Farengar and the departed Harbinger were discussing. Something had happened to her in the chamber and it looked like the dragons…. coming back tied in with her as well. Something compelled her to figure this out and it looked like joining the Jarl's forward defense to slay the dragon would help her.

The Jarl let a grim smile cross his face. 'Everyone has a choice: some are better than others and I am glad that you have taken this one. I hope to see you return to us, friend.' The Jarl turned towards the mage. 'I assume you will be joining them as well?'

'Of course, Balgruuf.' A small smile crossed the woman's face, her amber eyes glinting. 'I have a feeling mages will be needed. If I remember correctly, a dragon's skin is practically impenetrable to normal blades. Magic, daedric and dragonbone weapons and enchanted weaponry is the only thing that can penetrate their skin, right Farengar?'

The mage inclined his head. 'I would like to accompany them if that's alright, lord?' The Jarl immediately shook his head.

'I'm afraid not, old friend. Just in case they fail, we will need a bit of mages to defend the city.' The mage sighed in disappointment.

'Seems my knowledge will be wasted here then. Please, if you manage to defeat the beast, try to bring a piece of it back. My studies would be greatly expanded if I can take a look at one of its scales.' The Jarl lead the man away with a shake of his head and they disappeared inside Dragonsreach.

Valeka sighed and turned towards the stairs. 'Well then… looks like our death awaits us. Let's go and face a dragon.'

* * *

The march to the watchtower took almost an hour. When they reach the tower, the dragon was long gone, but its rampage could be seen from miles away. The tower had large furrows in the side of it from the monster's claws and chunks of the tower had been blown off and was scattered around the base of the tower. Smog filled the air and the smell of something burning settled across the courtyard.

Irileth stepped from the cobblestone path that lead to the tower and peered back and forth through the devastated surroundings. 'Well… it's definitely been here. Spread out and search for survivors.'

'Companions,' the giants voice rumbled from beneath the heavy helmet. 'Take up firing positions. If the beast comes back, I want to be prepared. Ria,' a Nibenese woman clad in light fur armor looked up in surprise. 'Head up to the tower and check for a vantage point. I'll send a few men up there after we have checked the area down here.' The woman nodded and quickly scurried away and towards the entrance of the watch tower. The rest of the warriors spread out and began to draw their own bows. A few of them raised their hands and Valeka was surprised when magical energy shimmered in their hands.

'I thought the Companions only used steel as weapons, not magic.' Elaninde commented from her side. The giant turned to face them, shrugging his powerful shoulders, his armor creaking slightly.

'I see no problem with them using magic as long as it is not used during a personal duel. We're going against a dragon. This can be pushed aside for now.' The giant in black armor made his way towards Irileth, speaking to her as the Companions and guards continued their search.

Elaninde and Valeka followed after him quickly, looking over the ruined ground around them. The dragon certainly had left its mark. Large, clawed footprints showed where the beast had landed and decided to attack with tooth and claw. A few corpses were scattered around the battlefield, the charred remains showing the last defiance, or fear against the dragon.

'The Jarl's wizard was about to say something to me before the dragon attack; do you know what it was?' The giant paused, turning to face her.

'I can't say…' the giant said. 'We will find out if the dragon decides to return. But if what we think is true… you are certainly going to be quite useful in the coming days.' Valeka opened her mouth to speak again, but a sudden roar filled the air around them.

The dragon had finally returned.

Valeka looked up towards the southern sky. From the snow-capped mountains where Bleak Falls Barrow rested, she saw the silhouette of the great winged monstrosity. Valeka was taken by surprised by the appearance of this one. Instead of the six limb variety with detached wings, this one had four: it's wings were attached to its forearms and it reminded her of a bat. With only a few pumps of its great wings, the dragon was soon flying above them.

'Zu'u los Mirmulnir! Faas dii Thu'um! YOL TOOR SHUL!' Fire erupted from the beast's maw and a group of guardsmen that were close together were engulfed in fire. The screams of the guards carried around the courtyard of the watch tower. A few of the guards ran around, their skin burning away from their flesh as they flailed around the yard.

'Archers!' Irileth called, flinging a bolt of lightning at the monster. 'Bring down the beast!'

'Companions!' The giant's voice boomed across the yard and the man unsheathed his sword. The gathered guardsmen and Companions quickly rallied to the sounds of their leader's voice. Arrows and the crackle of magic soon filled the air. The dragon beat its wings greatly, sending a current of wind that drove the arrows off course and avoided the magical blasts with a corkscrew motion. A rumbling sound filled its maw and Valeka realized it was laughing at them.

'It'll take more than that to defeat me, mortals…' the dragon's voice sounded like an avalanche and boomed across the courtyard. It opened its mouth once again, a more flames erupted from its mouth.

'Move!' Elaninde shouted, a large bolt of lightning flashing from her hand. The bolt was much larger than the ones being thrown around by the others and when it slammed into the face of the monster, it roared in pain. It glared at the elf, the scales along the right side of its face cracked and darkened. Yellow serpentine eyes glared in their direction.

'I think you made it mad.' Valeka commented, unsheathing her own weapons. The flanged head of the mace erupted into flames and her war axe glinted from the sunlight.

Instead of replying, the elf threw another bolt of lightning at the monster and the beast quickly dodged it. With a roar, it darted in their direction, its monstrous bulk eclipsing them in its shadow. The pair split apart as the monster's jaws darted towards them, its large form crashing into the ground. Valeka came up from her roll and immediately leapt at the monster's side. Her war axe came crashing down onto the beast's skin and the blade of iron immediately shattered onto its skin. She stared at the head of her axe in surprise. The dragon let out a rumbling timber of laughter and battered her aside with his wing.

The blow was like being struck by a wagon. She was knocked off her feet and sent flying through the air. She slammed back into the ground, rolling for a bit before she came to a rest in the dirt, her body flashing with pain. A pain filled groan escaped her lips and she felt a presence loom over her.

'On your feet, woman.' A giant's hand wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her quickly to her feet. Razahir stood nearby, his left hand holding a massive curved sword. The blade of the weapon had runic markings and lighting danced along its edge. A golden handguard protected the man's fingers and precious gemstones were embedded in the guard. 'Terminus,' he muttered and the blade pulsed with an inner light. 'Come: the elf is in trouble and we will need her magic to defeat the beast.' With that, he rushed towards the monster, a wordless cry escaping his lips.

Valeka made her way towards the beast, picking up her fallen mace and charging after the beast. The monster had taken to the ground, its maw flashing back and forth as it tried to scoop up Elaninde into its maw. The elf was dancing away from its jaws, lighting flashing from her hands. A squad of guards surrounded the monster and they sliced into the beast's skin. Their weapons proved unaffected, and most broke upon the monster's skin. Its club-like tail swatted aside the guards sending their broken forms flying away from it.

Another group received a mouthful of fire and the beast ignored their screaming forms. A Companion charged forwards from the base of the tower and brought her blade flashing down into the beast's face. A roar escaped its lips as the blade cut through its skin and the dragon quickly snatched the screaming warrior into its jaws, shaking its head back and forth. Blood covered the bottom of its jaws and the grass beneath it. It spat the body out, contemptuously and the broken Companion crashed to the ground.

Razahir snarled like a beast when that happened and Valeka noticed his steps quicken, his stride becoming long and quick. With a roar, he launched himself into the air only a few meters away from the dragon. Valeka was taken by surprise as the giant practically flew through the air, his sword pointed outwards from him. The point of the sword dug into the membrane of the dragon's wing and it roared in pain. The giant's weight made him slide down the wing easily, a large hole forming into the wing. It's long serpentine neck immediately curled around its shoulder and tried to snatch the giant into its jaws. The giant had reached the ground already and rolled aside as the long serpentine neck tried to snatch him up and his blade flashed in front of him. The dragon hissed, blood squirting from the wound. The blow managed to slice into its eye and the dragon roared at the man again.

A bolt of lightning slammed into the back of its neck and the dragon began to flail around itself, hissing and spitting in rage.

Valeka took her chance while she could. Sucking in a deep breath, she rushed forwards and at the monster. The dragon continued its flailing movements as Irileth and a few guardsmen surrounded the beast, slashing at it wildly. As the beast long neck swung in her direction, Valeka jumped into the air, grasping her arm forwards. The neck of the monster slammed into her side and she immediately wrapped her arm around the flailing monster. The breath was knocked out of her lungs and she held on desperately as wind blew across and through her hair.

The dragon's jerky movements almost knocked her off almost a half dozen times, but she held on desperately. As her momentum swung her one way, she threw her legs over the neck of the beast and found purchase there. She raised the eight flagged head of her mace and brought it crashing down into its throat. A wheezing hiss of air escaped the monster as she pulled her mace out of its neck and black blood squirted across her face and got into her mouth. The dragon's movements became weakened and slowed down greatly.

In the beasts last moments, it tried to flee by flying away. It's broken wing could not hold it aloft and it flapped its wings ineffectively. Valeka smashed her mace into the opposite side of its mouth and a weak noise issued from its lips: 'Dovakiin? Noooo!'

The dragon weakly fell to its side and Valeka rolled off its neck. She rolled nimbly to her feet and hefted the mace and raised it high above her head, taking it into a two handed grip. The beast glared at her with one of its cat like yellow eyes and she saw herself reflected in the amber eye. She brought the mace head down in a hard and heavy blow, the crunch of bone echoing in her ears. She raised the mace three more times and smashed it into the monster's wedge shaped head and the beast was finally finished.

Valeka sighed as the monster slumped over, its skull caved in. She stepped backwards and slumped over slightly, dropping her mace from her fingers. A breath of air escaped her lips and she was suddenly alert when she heard a whisper along the wind. She turned back to face the dragon, her head tilting slightly in its direction. Something invisible and tangible floated through the air and she froze from a moment, her eyes widening in surprise.

She watched curiously as invisible energy rose out of the dragon, a kaleidoscope of colors swimming around in front of her eyes. She breathed in deeply as the light reached out towards her and surrounded her and the sounds of whispers filled her mind.

 _She was flying over a city, her Thu'um shattering the world around her… A black dragon was hissing words as joore around them cowered in fear… awakening when she felt a familiar voice echoed in her ears… A tower being destroyed in his anger and rage, the mortals around her fleeing silently... hissing as she stared at the massive city nearby wondering if the joore there would give her problems… her wounds flashing with pain as a woman with dark hair stood above him, holding an enchanted mace in her hands before swinging it down towards her…_

Valeka stepped back with a gasp of air. She thrashed back and forth along the ground, trying to push herself away from the pain of her wounds. She could feel the pain in her skull from the weapon the joor wielded. The pain of her wounds blinded her and she reached for her Thu'um, searching for the comfort of fire to destroy the people around her…

'Valeka! Valeka,' a hand on her shoulder immediately relaxed her and she could feel magical energy's wash over her. 'Relax… the dragon is defeated… you're fine.' Valeka immediately began to calm down as the magical energies washed over her and she tilted her head as she felt the effects of a calming spell.

 _What was all of that_? She thought as her mind slowly began to calm down, the potent spell washing though her mind. _Those were definitely not things I've seen before_. _What the hell has just happened_? 'What just happened?' she voiced her thoughts, her eyes closed as she rested along the ground.

'You passed out.' A rumble echoed through her ears and she placed the voice as the Harbinger of the Companions. 'You sort of… seized up and then fell. What do you remember?' There was an eagerness in the man's voice and she frowned at it.

'Something… happened.' She felt her mouth voice the words and the calming spell twisted slightly, the magic turning slightly. She immediately wrapped her arm around the hand touching her and pulled it away from her, the magical spell immediately disappeared. 'Do not try to mess with my mind, joor.' The last word sounded alien to her own ears, but the voice was unmistakably hers. 'I did something to the dragon… something happened when I killed it.' Her eyes snapped open and she saw the sky above her with a few faces peering down at her. The Harbinger of the Companion's winged helmet was staring in her direction; Elaninde Caemoth was rubbing her wrist, her robes slightly burned; the red eyes of Irileth, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at her.

'Dragonborn.' The Harbinger of the Companions stated. Valeka looked at him sharply. 'Dragonborn… that is what you are, that is what Farengar was going to tell you. You are Dragonborn.'

'I thought Ulfric was-' the booming laughter of the giant Redguard cut her off.

'Ulfric? Ulfric Stormcloak the Dragonborn? Ulfric is strong and he probably could fight against a dragon considering he was taught by the Greybeards… but other than that…' the giant shook his head slowly. 'He is no Dragonborn… you on the other hand…'

'DOVAKIIN!' the words suddenly thundered from the heavens and everyone looked towards the Throat of the World where the voices had come from. Valeka felt something twist around inside of her stomach and she looked towards the giant mountain, baring her teeth in a snarl. She was being called to something… the voices were calling her! With a strangled breath of air, she quickly pushed the feeling away. She noticed she had climbed to her feet and trembled slightly.

'What in the name of Oblivion is going on?' she questioned, still staring at the mountain.

'You're Dragonborn… just like Talos of old…' one of the guards spoke up. 'Can you Shout?'

'Shout?' She questioned and frowned thoughtfully. She wracked her mind for words and recalled the word from the Dragon Wall in Bleak Falls Barrow. _**Fus**_ … an ancient rumble filled her mind, a voice far deeper than her own was actually speaking to her. When she opened her mouth again:

' **FUS**!' A ripple of power erupted from her own mouth. The energy tore through the ground in front of her, sending grass and dirty flying this way and that. The guards all stepped away from her in surprise and fear.

'Dragonborn…' Razahir said a small smile on his face. The giant pulled his helmet off his head and grinned down at her. 'Looks like old Farengar was right. You and Elaninde should head back to Dragonsreach. The Jarl is going to want to speak with you.'

Valeka frowned in the elf's direction. She could still remember the magical influence the woman had been exerting over her and she did not was to be close to her at the moment. 'I'll pass on that… I don't need a guide.' Elaninde frowned at being dismissed so quickly, her arms crossing over her chest.

Razahir looked between them carefully, his smile turning into a frown. 'Well you can't just go up there yourself. I will go with you instead. Irileth, can you handle things here?' The huscarl inclined her head in his direction, her eyes traveling to the corpse of the dragon. Blood was leaking out of the legendary beast's wounds and with its body slumped over as it was, the great bulk of the creature was giant compared to everyone else. Valeka wondered briefly how they all managed to even destroy the massive monster, but she quickly shook her head of those thoughts.

'When you see the Jarl, can you tell him to send down a few carts? We're going to need all of the help if we want to take the corpse of the beast back with us. Not even you can drag the monster back to Whiterun.' The giant chuckled softly and inclined his head once.

'I'll send word. Companions!' The giant looked towards the fallen Companion, his dark brown eyes losing their mirth. 'Gather the rest of our fallen and make sure they are all brought back to Jorrvaskr… we will send them off when I return to our hall. Good work all of you.' The Companions of Whiterun all inclined their head in the Redguard's direction and swiftly turned away from him. He turned back around to face her. 'Let us go.'

The giant marched off, a small frown on his face as he strolled away from them. With one last look at Elaninde, Valeka jogged after the giant redguard, the voice of Irileth the last thing she heard as she turned away.

* * *

The massive doors that lead into Dragonsreach were pushed open. Valeka stared at the grand interior of the building captured by it for just a moment. The entrance hall of the air was large and impressive with four benches pushed up against the wall. The banners of Whiterun hung from the four pillars in the room and she and Razahir quickly advanced past the waiting room and headed up the grand steps.

The dining hall was still as grand as she remembered seeing it earlier and again, she was captured by the mysticism of the flames in the large fire pit in the center of the dining hall/throne room. She noticed that Jarl Balgruuf was still sitting in his throne and the flames gave the man an ethereal appearance.

Four guards surrounded the man, each of them with a hand on the hilts of their swords. The stewed, Proventus, stood near the throne as well and opposite of him was a large, bare chested Nord with a massive battle axe slung across his back. A leather circlet rested along the top of his blonde hair, keeping it out of his face. The man was having a conversation with the Jarl.

'The Greybeards… you heard them too I take it?'

'Aye, I heard the summons as well. It looks like Farengar was correct.'

At that moment, the Jarl looked in their direction and a large smile crossed the man's face. Valeka noticed that the tired lines practically melted away from his face. An expectant look crossed his face and he straightened in his throne. Hrongar inclined his head respectfully in the Harbinger's direction which the man returned.

'I see you have returned from the watchtower. Is the deed finished? Has the dragon been defeated?'

'Yes, but the watchtower was destroyed.'

A smile of relief passed over the Jarl's face. 'Good, but I suspect there is more to the story than just that?'

Valeka nodded her head stiffly. 'Yes, and it appears that I'm something called "Dragonborn", but I suppose you knew that already?'

'We suspected.' Farengar's voice echoed to her right and the wizard stepped out of his shop. 'When you encountered the Dragon wall, it imparted its powers onto you. If anyone else were to read it, nothing would have happened to them, but you read it and you learned a Shout. I assume that killing the dragon unlocked the word from the wall inside of your mind?'

She nodded her head slightly. 'Yes, how did you know all of this?'

'My studies of dragons have gotten me quite far… I may not have joined the Greybeards on High Hrothgar, but they did teach me a lot before I left.'

'You were a Greybeard?' Valeka questioned. The old man inclined his head.

'Aye, I was much more adventurous in my youth. My path of adventure eventually took me to the fortress monastery of High Hrothgar and I studied there for a bit. Needless to say, I left and went studying at the colleges before finally settling down here.' The old man held a fond smile on his face as he explained everything and Valeka inclined her head once. 'But enough about all of that, I can tell you about my past later… but now… where is the dragon?'

'Still at the watchtower. Irileth and her guards are keeping the place safe and the Companions are gathering our dead.' Razahir said.

'How many did we lose?' asked Balgruuf.

'Half the guards, and only a handful of Companions,' replied Razahir.

'Damn… we will need to compensate and notify the family of the guards then. Will you need gold and silver for the loss of the Companions?' the Jarl's Steward and master of coin immediately stepped forward as he replied over Balgruuf.

Razahir shook his head. 'No. Send as much as you can to the families of the guards that have been lost. We are the only family the Companions have and if I may, I'd like a few bones and the scales from the beast.'

The steward thought it over only for a bit before nodding his head. 'That's fine.' The Harbinger smiled in the man's direction before turning back to the Jarl.

The noble had only a small frown on his face at being spoken over before he spoke again: 'Anything else, I can grant for you, Harbinger?'

The giant smirked in his direction. 'Only a few carts to bring the beast's corpse back here.' His eyes darted up towards the large, grinning dragon skull that dominated the space above the Jarl's throne. 'Afraid, you won't have a skull, sir. Valeka destroyed it when she bashed its skull in.'

'Is that how you slew the beast?'

Valeka immediately nodded. 'Yes, but I had a lot of help. The guards and the Companions helped greatly. Without their aid, we would have fallen.'

'Modest... we will need that for this hold.' He turned towards the bare chested bodyguard. 'Fetch me, the axe and armor from the vault, please, brother.' The burly Nord nodded his head once and quickly departed, disappearing up the nearby stairs and Balgruuf turned back to face Valeka. 'There is no time for ceremony, friend. Whiterun has fallen unto harsh times and with the Civil War going on, we will need all the help we can get.' At that moment, the Jarl's bodyguard returned, carrying a suit of armor and an axe. He strolled right up to Valeka, holding out the arms in front of him. 'It would honor me greatly, if you were to accept a position in my hold as a Thane of Whiterun.'

'A Thane? You want to make me a noble?' Valeka questioned incredulously.

The Jarl nodded his head. 'Aye, you have proved yourself as a capable and reliable warrior. You could have fled when the dragon attacked, instead you stayed and fought alongside my people. You even had the chance to flee when the dragon was at the tower and you still stayed.' The Jarl nodded his head. 'You've earned this right, Valeka. Now what do you say?'

'I…' she hesitated slightly, her eyes turning towards the Harbinger. The giant had a blank look on his face, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared ahead. Briefly, she saw a small flick at the corner of her mouth and she turned away from him. 'I accept.' She finally answered, wondering what it was she was going to be getting into.

A large smile appeared on the man's face. 'Good, please, accept the weapons and armor from Hrongar, they will be your official sign of office.' She nodded her head and accepted the axe first, staring down at the weapon. The haft of the axe was ornamental and carved with ancient Nordic script. The head of the axe had a hooked appearance to it and the metal head was sharp and deadly. It could easily cut through skin. As her hand wrapped around the haft, she felt a familiar tingle along her skin. Enchanted, she thought, a small smile crossed her face as she could feel the tingle of magicka. She placed the weapon into the loop along her heavy leather belt and took the armor next.

The armor was heavy and bulky and crafted from steel. She frowned slightly as she stared at her own reflection in the armor. She looked haggard and worn and tilted her head curiously at the face that stared back at her. Vivid blue eyes and her dark hair was slightly clumped and matted. She would have to bath soon.

'I'm afraid, however,' the Jarl spoke and she looked towards him, placing the armor at her feet. 'I will not be able to grant you a huscarl now.'

'A huscarl?'

'A bodyguard. They are sworn into your service and will protect you with their life if need be. They're loyal and capable, but sadly, there are none in place for your Thanehood. As I said, times have been hard for us in Whiterun.'

'How hard?'

The Jarl let a small frown cross his face, the familiar expression draining out all the old relief on his face. 'You'll find out soon enough, Thane.'

* * *

A/N: And the plot kinda thickens... next chapter will be coming out hopefully sooner rather than later. No worries about Elaninde, she'll return at some point, but for now this is where she will be... pushed aside. We'll see her again (sooner rather than later).


	9. The Wolf of Whiterun

A/N: Here we go another chapter. This one is just a brief interlude to add in a bit more on the Harbinger and some plot pushing since I have not explained too much about the other things going on.

* * *

The Wolf of Whiterun

'I will take my leave of you, lord.' His rumbling voice carried through the throne room and Balgruuf's blue eyes snapped to him. The powerful man's gaze caused most to shudder, but Razahir had been in his presence for far too long now. The gaze barely raised his hackles and he had nothing else to fear from the man. The Jarl inclined his head once and turned his gaze back to the dark-haired woman.

Vivid blue eyes met his own and he smiled in the woman's direction. A hesitant smile crossed the Dragonborn's face and he turned on his heel, the ends of his cape rustling against the ground. His heavily armored form moved away quickly, his sharp ears picking up the sounds of the Jarl's voice as he began to explain what plagued Whiterun.

The giant frowned at that. It would take a lot of time for the Dragonborn to understand just how bad the situation in Whiterun was. The walls were well fortified and the city would be able to hold against any assault… from the outside. The inside of the city was vastly different the well-fortified outside was.

The Cloud District held the nobles that wanted to fill their own pockets with gold and silver; while the commoners suffered: the middle class that wanted to rise to the higher echelons of society, but could not due to the amount of wealth they had; the lower part of the city, who struggled daily to fill their stomach with something that did not have maggots writhing around inside of it and water that was not from the sewer.

The Companions and guards were working double time to make sure that most vocal citizens were quelled and somehow they would all comeback the next time the disgust for it grew. The giant swung the great doors open and stepped through the courtyard. He inclined his head at the guards on patrol and waved to a few in greeting. They waved back him, or inclined their heads in acknowledgement and the giant stopped when he stood right at the top of the staircase that lead down into the city.

His eyes immediately traveled to the ruins of the watchtower, a heavy cloud of smoke still trailing upwards from the ruined building and where they had fought the dragon. As his mind recalled the battle, he frowned thoughtfully and focused on the moment when he almost lost control. The results would have been disastrous and Tamriel would be short of another Dragonborn and the Companions would probably have been put to the sword, even with the Jarl's protection.

Mortals, the giant thought with a sniff of disdain. The lycanthrope turned his gaze away from the tower and towards the small cloud of smoke that rose in the city. The forges that made-up crafters row were still busy at work and he could picture the hammer striking against an anvil in his ears. A beautiful sound. If it was one thing he could appreciate in his skin of a mortal, it was the skill they had at working metal. His own hands in his other form would never be made to create such materials, but in his human shape… he could create those as well, possibly even greater than the best blacksmiths if anything Eorlund said was right.

His eyes turned towards where Jorrvaskr sat and he could barely make out the roof of his den, the homes stretching out around it almost dwarfing the building. His pack continued to grow larger with the flow of new recruits who heard of the might his pack-mates. He wondered who among them would prove themselves strong enough to join them in the hunt underneath the stars before he shook his head of such matters. Time would tell.

* * *

'Before the ancient flame,' Razahir intoned. The Companions of Whiterun all stood around the Skyforge, the air heavy with the grief of all the warriors present. They all stood shoulder to shoulder as they sent off three of their own into the afterlife.

'We grieve,' they all echoed, their voices heavy with emotion.

'At this loss…' Vilkas said from the Harbinger's side.

'We weep…' a few tears ran down a few of the warriors faces: those that were close to the fallen Companions allowing the stoic façade they all wore to be broken for the moment.

'For the fallen,' Aela the Huntress muttered. The fiery haired she-wolf had arrived with Farkas right before the funeral for the warriors could commence and she stood with Vilkas' twin to Razahir's left. The Circle was still missing a few members by for now they were complete.

'We shout!' The Companions all raised their voices and a few of the warriors let out cry that could be heard through the air. The Harbinger's own voice joined the others who had taken up the cry, the booming noise sounding like it could shake the heavens. It continued for a few minutes, the roars of the warriors carrying on the wind before it slowly died down.

'And for ourselves,' Farkas muttered the final words of the sendoff. The warriors all bowed their head deeply, bringing a closed fist up to their chests.

'We take our leave…' they all intoned. The heavy air of mourning returned to the Companions of Whiterun and the silence hung heavy in the air. Razahir stepped out of the comfort of his Shield-Siblings, holding a torch in his massive right hand and Ria stepped forwards, a candle in her own hands. She lit the pitch along the end of the torch and the giant stepped forwards slowly, his face tight in mourning. He let the torch drop into the fire pit and the flames greedily began to lick at the funeral pyre.

The warriors silently watched the pyre engulfed in fire, looking upwards as the smoke began to drift into the sky.

The Harbinger turned to face them all, his massive form illuminated by the flickering flames. 'Their spirits are departed. Companions… withdraw and grieve for our lost brother and sisters.' The warriors brought their hands up across their chests again and they all slowly departed.

Soon the only members gathered around the Skyforge was the Circle themselves. They all watched over the burned pyre, watching as the warriors were taken by the flame.

'Did they die well?' Vilkas was the first to speak, his blue eyes still staring into the fire.

The Harbinger nodded his head. 'Aye, they died honorably with their steel in hand. They faced a dragon and did not even quiver in their boots when the dragon came from the mountains.'

'Did you all hear the sound of thunder afterwards?' questioned Aela. The members of the Circle nodded their heads. 'Is it true then? Have the Greybeards summoned the Dragonborn?'

'Yes,' Razahir said, staring into the flames. 'Last time I checked, she is still up at Dragonsreach. The Jarl has granted her Thanehood and he's still explaining everything that is plaguing Whiterun. She's been up there for a week now.'

'Why so long? Why would explaining everything take so long?' Farkas' voice joined theirs.

'She's the Dragonborn, Farkas… she has a whole lot of influence and there is no way Balgruuf is going to let her go quite yet. Ulfric has proclaimed himself as Dragonborn, but we already know that's not true. The Greybeards called her right after she bashed its skull in. I haven't heard any Shouting before that, none of us have.'

'What is she like?' asked Vilkas. 'Can she hold her own in a battle?' A rumbling laugh escaped the giant's lips and Vilkas frowned. 'What's so funny?'

'You've met her already; remember the whelp who arrived with Elaninde?' Vilkas narrowed his eyes in thought and after a moment his eyes widened in realization.

'WHAT?!' The large Nord shouted, his voice carrying through the air around them. 'That little whelp is the Dragonborn?'

The giant nodded his head, the laughter still echoing from his lips.

'We're doomed,' the man responded, deadpanned. 'The Gods have doomed us all. There's no way she can be Dragonborn of legend.'

'Why not?' his twin asked.

'She thinks she can take me on. The little whelp doesn't even look like she could hold that mace correctly, let alone do some damage with it.' The man growled.

'Careful, Vilkas…' The Harbinger warned, a smirk forming on his face. 'She might prove you wrong and end bashing your skull in.'

'Or Shouting you apart…' Aela ribbed, a chuckle escaping her own lips.

'Unless… you want her to be Shouting for you in a different way…' Farkas added, a sly smile appearing on his face. Vilkas turned towards him, a snarl on his lips. The Circle members began to chuckle as the Nord tried to turn back and forth between them all, his glare trying and failing to freeze them. The man gave up with a growl and threw his hands into the air before departing swiftly. They each tried calling after the man, but their laughter made them unable to speak and the man disappeared before any of them could catch their breath.

The three members of the Circle remained silent as they all gained control of themselves.

'Do you really think she can take care of herself?' Farkas questioned and Razahir nodded.

'She can. Perhaps she can join up with us at some point.' He held his hand up to forestall the protest that had formed on Farkas' lips. 'No… not join with us as a pack, but she will be welcomed here. She would still have to prove herself just like the others and then we will see if she joins the Circle. She probably won't. With her duties as the Dragonborn, who knows what can happen.'

Farkas inclined his head and looked off to where his brother had departed. 'I'm going to go check and see how he is.' The man said and Razahir could practically taste the man's wariness now and held back a smile. The twin nodded his head at him and quickly departed, leaving the Huntress and Harbinger alone.

'Would you really give her the beast blood if she decided to join?' questioned Aela when the pair were alone. The Harbinger tilted his head slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. A thoughtful look passed over the giant's handsome face.

'No…' the giant said after a moment of silence. 'There's only a few of us among the Companions that have the blood and most of them can't control it. Luckily for us, the Huntsman favors us greatly.' The giant looked in her direction. 'You've noticed it, too have you? You can control your transformations easier and you barely feel the pull of the moon anymore.'

Aela nodded her head in answer. Razahir held up his hand and watched it as it changed. Coarse, black fur covered his hand and his giant fingers lengthened and his nails became longer before sharpening into claws. He flexed the massive hand carefully back and forth, knuckles popping before it shifted back into the original form.

'Something has shifted the moons.' Razahir commented.

'Have you received any visions from the Lord of the Hunt?' Aela asked.

The giant shook his head. He had been getting decent nights of sleep without any nightmares, or hearing the Daedric Lord of the Hunt in his head for… weeks now. A frown slid across his face as he realized it.

'What do you think it can mean?'

Razahir sucked in a breath. 'I have no idea, but whatever it is, hopefully our Lord will still favor us. Care to join me for a hunt? It's been an age since we have hunted together.'

A coy smile crossed her face. 'I thought you'd never ask. I've heard a group of bandits have taken over Halted Steam camp again and the Jarl hasn't sent in any men.'

* * *

The stars twinkled brilliantly in the night sky. The twin moons – Secunda and Masser – were waxing as they slowly moved across the sky. Insects chirped in the darkness of night, and torch bug thoraxes glowed occasionally lit up the dark tundra.

Razahir stood beneath a small cluster of trees, one of the few that managed to grow in the landscape. His dark brown eyes appeared to glow in the darkness, their twin pools locked on the bandit camp a half a league away. The dark-skinned man was naked, his massive form bared to the elements; intricate tribal tattoos covered his large arms and a snarling wolf head rested proudly on his right pectoral. If the giant was cold, he gave off no discomfort, his eyes piercing the darkness easily.

Down a small hill beneath him was the bandit camp, campfires flickering brightly in the darkness. As he stared down into the camp, he felt a hand ghost along his spine and he shivered. Aela appeared at his side, her skin making her look ethereal in the night.

She too was naked; her slender body was tense in preparation and Razahir nodded his head once, sharply.

The pair hunched over as pain racked their bodies.

Both of their forms began to sprout hair all over their bodies; Razahir's was dark brown, almost black and Aela's was auburn. Their limbs lengthened and muscles began to contort and grown as they transformed. Their faces elongated into that of a monstrous and bestial and their teeth sharpened and grew pointed inside their mouths. Their hands grew longer and became topped with razor sharp claws that could cut through steel like butter and their tail bones grew out from their bodies, turning large a bushy. Their eyes were the last thing to change becoming a glowing, feral yellow color. The transformation complete, the werewolves howled deep and long into the night.

Razahir became a hulking creature of a massive size and Aela's beast form still looked diminutive next to the large monster. Heavy breathing began to echo through the area, the breathing forming a small cloud as they breathed. With supernatural speed, the werewolves began to run down the hill side, growling in hunger.

With a low growl, the pair of lycanthrope's darted down the hill and towards the bandit camp. Muscles contorted as the huge monsters moved with supernatural speed. They cleared the space between the area quickly soon reached the wooden, spike walls. Without a pause, their legs bunched and they launched themselves over the wall, clearing it easily.

Razahir landed on the ground with a snarl of animalistic hunger. Aela slammed on top of an unsuspecting bandit, crushed him beneath her clawed feet. With a growl, she began to eat the dead man, her muzzle slowly becoming darker with the blood.

Razahir's monstrous face swung back and forth as he searched for prey and sniffed the air heavily. With a quick jolt, he darted off towards the smell; a floral scent that was mixed with human sweat. The bandit never had time to see the beast that eviscerated her, her innards spilling out of her stomach before she fell after her face was raked with the monster's claws. The werewolf tore out her heart with a few quick bites of the woman's flesh and bone. The pair of wolves paused as they heard chanting filling their hypersensitive ears.

The wolves tilted their heads at the noise and liked their lower muzzle. They headed towards the doorway that would lead inside the mine. That's when they encountered their first problem of the night.

Aela's much slimmer form could fit inside the door way, but Razahir's from was hindered by the motion. A low snarl echoed through the camp as the monster backed away. A breeze blew from the mountain and the monster tilted its head. It snarled a command at his mate and the auburn-haired wolf slunk inside the mine.

The dark-haired wolf turned and followed the smell. It tore through the doors that lead to the east and stalked the path upwards. As the monster padded along the path, its feral yellow eyes looked up towards the lit hall of Dragonsreach. The Jarl's palace was lit up brilliantly as the twin moons sat behind the great hall, illuminated by the light. Cunning, intelligent eyes stared at the hall for a brief second before the beast went on its way.

As it reached the crest of a hill, the sound of chanting rose inside of the supernatural monster's ears. Tilting its head, the beast approached the area slowly. A deep hole was dug into the ground and the lycan perched itself at the edge of the hole, peering down inside. Bodies of animals and deer covered the floor, impaled by large spikes at the base of the ground. Long dried blood covered the dirt floor and a low growl escaped the monsters throat as its hunger returned. Dexterously, the monster climbed down the side of the wall, his large claws burying deep into the framework of the trap. When he touched down, there was an opening in front of him and light peeked out from the inside.

The sounds of chanting grew louder and the werewolf bared its teeth before stalking inside, mouthwatering. The monster easily avoided the trap as it walked down the slope that lead into the cave and peered out and into the room at the base of the slope. A massive mammoth hid his form from view as he spied on the people inside the room.

A gathering of Beastfolk, Man, and Mer were inside the large room. A forge sat to his left, the embers giving off a soft glow in the gloomy mine floor. Shelves were stacked with the tusks of mammoths and blood snouts from the large, formidable beasts. A ramp led up to a wooden platform where a robed figure raised their hands high into the air, preaching about… something.

Razahir bared his teeth and he could smell the musky scent of his pack mate and saw a pair of glowing, yellow eyes from her position above another wooden platform. He looked eyes with her and nodded his head once. The she-wolf launched herself forwards, throwing herself off the upper platform and landing among the people. They all screamed as the werewolf appeared among them, her claws slashing back and for through the air. A few ran in his direction and Razahir stepped out of the shadows of the mammoth.

They froze as the massive monster looming over them, eyes staring at them all in hunger. A few vacated their bowls, their fear rising and the odor of piss and shit filled his nostrils. With a snarl, he fell onto them, the screams carrying through the mine shaft.

The slaughter continued only for a few minutes, the mine being covered in blood and a body parts. A large orc was slumped against the wall, lifeless eyes staring at the ground. A pile that was once a wood elf leaked blood and gore along the floor, the puddle beneath it slowly growing. A redguard tried to flee, eyes wide in fear and terror. A blurring claw sliced through his back, bring him down to the ground, limbs rendered useless.

An Altmer tried to cast a spell, but was instantly pounced upon before she could even complete the spell, her head rolling across the room. An imperial fell to the ground, trying to keep his intestines from spilling across the floor. A khajiit ineffectively tried to claw a distracted beast as it fed on a screaming dark elf and was backhanded away absentmindedly, crashing into the forge of the area, its fur catching alight instantly. An argonian got its head crushed when it tried to slice at the monster with a dagger, his body slammed into the ground a moment later. A nord was torn apart down the middle, as he died in agony.

When the killing was finished, two naked forms stood on the empty floor, annotated in blood. Harsh breathing escaped both of their lips and sweat was mixed in with the blood across their bodies. Their eyes still glowed as they surveyed their killing ground, sharp eyes searching for any survivors. Finding none, they looked in each other's direction, still breathing heavily.

Aela licked her blood covered lips, her silver-green eyes staring at the powerful form in front of her. The giant watched her, his eyes drinking in every inch of her pale form. They stared at each other for just a moment before Aela pounced onto him, her arms wrapping around his large shoulders. Her nails were digging into his back and the giant redguard wrapped his arms across her waist, his lips crushed against hers. Her mouth, hot and wanting, was trailing across his chest, licking at the slowly drying blood to get to the hot skin beneath.

His spied a bed, but dismissed it instantly. His form was too large to fit in such a tiny object, and undoubtedly, it would not be able to last against what they had planned. A small frown twisted his handsome, blood covered face; no comfort for today then.

Their bodies went to the floor, deeply intertwined with each other. Razahir groaned low in his throat as he felt the hardened peaks against his own chest, pressing against his body. Want rushed through him and he felt his cock harden as he got excited.

When he finally managed to slip inside her of her, the pair moaned loudly and began their rough lovemaking.

* * *

'Cultists…' Aela said. He tilted his head slightly, still hammering away at the sword. The weapon was still being shaped and a smile was on his face as he continued to shape the weapon. It would be a great weapon and he still had a few materials left over from the dragon bones that Balgruuf had sent. Perhaps he could even make a suit of scale as well. Ideas…

'Did you hear me?' the annoyance in Aela's voice was clear and Eorlund chuckled at his side. The man bumped his shoulder with his own painfully.

'You do not want her to get mad at you, friend. I'd answer if I were you.'

The giant held back his snort and smirked instead. 'Yes, I heard. Instead of bandits we slew cultists on our hunt. What of it?' the giant responded with, looking over the sword once again. It was in the final process of being created… the only thing it needed was the hilt and pommel and his mind was swimming back and forth as he tried to picture what he could shape to make the weapon worthy for someone to hold.

She sighed in frustration. 'If you were paying attention, ice brain, you would know that they had marks on them. Tattoos actually.'

The giant grunted his answer, still looking at the weapon in the fires of the Skyforge. Eorlund snorted again in amusement.

'In the shape of a dragon…' that made the Harbinger pause, his eyes flickering towards the woman. Her silver-green eyes watched him pointedly.

'A dragon? Anything that is recognizable?'

Aela inclined her head, the look of victory spreading across her face. 'Yes, I saw it when Farkas and I were going through Bleak Falls. They weren't any normal cultists… they worshiped dragons…'

'Dragon cultists? I thought they died out ages ago.'

'So did I, but it looks like a few of them are still running around. Strange… isn't it?'

The Harbinger's eyes immediately went towards Dragonsreach, his gaze narrowed in thought. His dark brown eyes flashed with something… dark and his frowned deepened. Aela followed his gaze and Eorlund did as well, each of them staring at the place where the Dragonborn stayed at. Dragonsreach stood silent on the top of the hill.

* * *

A:N: Here we are. Again, not much to explain just to show a bit of things that are going on after the battle with the dragon. Next up we have Elaninde's chapter and see a bit on how she is with Irelith and the guards before she goes off on her thing. See you all next time.


	10. The Mage

A/N: And here we gone the filler chapter for Elaninde.

The Mage

Elaninde Caemoth watched as Valeka trailed after the Harbinger, a small frown on her covered face. Curiously, the woman could now sense her magic and the thought made her frown. No one could detect her spell work before and the only ones who had were those who had magical talent, or those who were strong willed. Valeka herself had been susceptible to her spells for a time before all of this happened.

'Dragonborn, eh? She certainly has gotten even more interesting.' Irileth commented from her side. Elaninde reached up and pulled the mask off her face, sighing in pleasure as she felt the wind across her face.

'She has… and now it looks like she might be a bit out of my reach now.' Irileth scoffed at her side.

'Trying to work your magic on her as well? Did Razahir not tell you that is not a healthy way to make friends.'

'I cannot help it!' Elaninde exclaimed, placing the golden, smiling mask on her belt. 'I hate taking the time to get to know all these people and get them to trust me is like pulling out teeth!' Elaninde scoffed, shaking her head slowly.

'Still never hurts to try at first. The Dragonborn certainly seems like a nice person. Innocent if anything.'

'She is… but that is not something I would like to discuss.'

Irileth grunted, turning away as the Harbinger and Dragonborn disappeared over the hill, and approached the corpse of the dragon. 'No skin off my teeth. You are going to apologize for trying to manipulate her, right.'

'Of course… I just need to find a way how.' She grumbled, running a hand across her face. She suddenly felt very tired and her three hundred years of age slowly began to creep up on her. She quickly pushed those thoughts aside and joined Irileth and her guards as they looked over the dragon.

'Are any of your people hurt, or need to be healed?'

A guardsman spoke up: 'Yes, mage. Everyone is being herded inside. The most sever wounded are on the first floor.'

'I'll get to it then. I'll return when most of them are healed. I really want to examine this beast.'

'Take your time. The carts will not be arriving for a few hours if anything. You have all the time in the world.'

Elaninde nodded her head once and strolled through the devastation around her. She saw the burned bodies of the guards and the managed body of the fallen Companion. A small frown crossed her face as she saw warriors hold their silent vigil over the fallen warrior. She wondered if the funeral was going to be just as mournful as Kodlak's before she pushed that thought away.

The blackened steps of the watchtower were still study enough to walk up and only a few pieces of rock had fallen from the tower. She brushed off a few of the stones with a flick of her hand, her telekinesis magic cleaning the stairs.

She moved out of the way as a pair of guards stepped out of the tower, quickly moving down the stairs with a makeshift stretcher between them. Elaninde noticed the blood on the sheet of the stretcher and shook her head at the sight before stepping inside the tower.

The base of the tower was filled with the sound of moaning guards. The flesh was seared from a few of the gathered soldiers and others hand bleeding wounds from the creature's claws. A few guards had their hands raised over the guards, green light erupting from their hands. A Companion was also among them, his own hands singing with restoration magicka.

Elaninde raised her how hands and approached one of the guards, her own healing magic joining with the others. The wounded warriors sighed in relief as their wounds were healed. Elaninde moved back and forth among the fallen warriors, healing them with her touch. Only a few were grievously wounded and others she arrived too late to help them and she felt a small frown rise when she did not reach them in time.

As she reached the last guard in the line a shout rose from outside. The door was thrown open and Irileth strolled inside, barking orders over her shoulder. Behind her came a group of guards and they were hovered around a woman on the stretcher. Her armor had a large dent in it and Elaninde's mind immediately flashed towards when the dragon had struck the people with its club like tail.

'Elaninde! I need your healing now! This is serious!' Irileth shouted as soon as she saw her. The huscarl barked in her direction, her face a mask of worry. Elaninde immediately moved over to her as the she-elf cleared a table.

'What is it?' She muttered as she approached. They quickly pushed the heavily armored figure on table, the wooden object creaking as the weight of the warrior settled on it. Irileth was hovering over them, pulling off the plate armor's helmet. Elaninde froze as she looked at the woman's face, her eyes widening in surprise and shock.

Lydia – the Jarl's daughter – pale and drawn face was revealed to everyone in the watchtower.

'Oh… shite…' Elaninde muttered, quickly pushing everyone aside and waving her hands over the woman. 'How the hell did she even get here?!'

'I do not know! Last I saw of her she was up at Dragonsreach!' Irileth responded with, her red eyes looking over the woman carefully. She was closing and opening her hands in her agitation. Elaninde waved her hand in the woman's direction, a bright light striking her instantly, and the woman calmed immediately. 'How the hell did she manage to even end up here?'

'Probably snuck out and hid among the guards.' Elaninde muttered. First she worked on healing the woman's bruised face. Her healing magic washed over her face and the warmth returned to her face, the blood rushing through her skin. 'She has a double, right? Probably made the double return to the castle while she went and fought the dragon. Brave… but very foolish.'

'I… have other… siblings… they could take… the title.' Lydia's voice was filled with pain and a gasp tore from her lips when she was finished. Elaninde frowned and raised two fingers, ice coating the tips of them. She placed her fingers at the top of Lydia's gorget and brought it down slowly.

''Fraid your modesty is not going to be preserved now.' Elaninde muttered, sending out a burst of telekinetic force down the center of her armor. The suit of armor cracked down the middle like a ruptured egg and Elaninde pulled it apart with another flick of her hands. The armor peeled outwards like a flower in bloom and she winced as she saw the mass bruising that had formed on the woman's ribs and stomach. 'Hmm… probably suffering from internal bleeding. You certainly took a pounding.'

Irileth scowled in her direction. 'No time for your jokes! Heal her!'

'I'm going, I'm going.' She muttered. 'Sorry.' She placed her palms on Lydia's chest and sent out waves of soothing magicka out from beneath her palms. Lydia gritted her teeth in pain as Elaninde's magic went to work at healing her injuries; internal and external. As the magicka continued to wash over her, Lydia's heavy breathing became easier and soon she was breathing slowly, her face morphing into one of relief. Elaninde sighed and moved her hands away from Lydia's covered chest, wiping a few droplets of sweat off her brow. 'Done and done.'

Lydia sat up slowly, a groan of protest escaping her lips slightly. Elaninde twitched her fingers and the breast plate sealed back shut with a creak of metal, the large crack down the middle only giving a clue to the damage that had been done to it.

'Oh… that's going to be a bitch to fix.' Lydia muttered, running her hands along the split in the armor. 'Father is going to angry at me for sure…'

'You're lucky to be alive. If the guards had not found you, the Jarl would make sure all our heads were rolling by time word got back that you were not in Dragonsreach.' Irileth muttered sharply.

Lydia waved her off. 'It's fine. Elaninde saved me with her magic and the dragon has fallen, has it not?'

'That means nothing… half of the guards are gone and the Companions of Whiterun have lost a few as well.' Irileth said.

'And the dragon?'

'Dead,' chimed in Elaninde, already moving away from her. 'The Dragonborn slew it and she went up to Dragonsreach with the Harbinger.'

'They're already off to go and speak with my father?' Lydia asked.

'Yes, you just missed it. She Shouted and the Greybeards called her and everything.' Elaninde muttered, strolling between the lines of wounded guards. The guardsmen were giving the Jarl's daughter looks of outright hostility and already Irileth had formed a circle around the woman.

Elaninde chuckled underneath her breath. _I had forgotten about all of that_ , she thought as she sent healing waves down into the guard. A pitiful groan escaped the guardsman burned lips. The hostility that the jarl and his family received was rather disappointing to her since Balgruuf the Greater did work with what he had and he was rather successful. A small frown crossed her face. Too bad the simple folk never realized that. Things were bad for now, but later… Whiterun would be able to smash aside all opposition from any other Hold and still can probably go to war afterwards.

Elaninde frowned at that. Perhaps that was too much of an exaggeration.

Another guard tried to wave her away, muttering curses about how the Aldmeri Dominion were going to get him. Elaninde scowled darkly at that, making sure to silence the guardsman's mouth and press her hand deeply into his wounded side. The hiss that escaped his lips did not even make her flinch.

'Believe me,' Elaninde muttered, glaring down at him. 'If I were one of those barbaric pieces of excrement; you would be dead in a ditch somewhere.'

She hated being compared to those fanatical group of elves. Their mindset of killing a whole race just because one of their ancestors became a God was stupid. If that was true, the coils of morality were certainly easy enough to be granted for a long lived being such as her. All she would have to do is follow the way of old Tiber Septim and wage war for… a couple of years and then unite the land and hope that a Divine was looking down at her when it happened.

Or a Daedra, she found herself thinking, her mind immediately moving towards the Harbinger. The giant of Whiterun was certainly an enigma to her. Moonborn… a werewolf that worshiped the Daedric Lord of the Hunt. But who would think that a Daedra would grant someone Godhood without some sort of damnation later in life? She briefly wondered She puzzled over that for a second before she felt a presence nearby her.

It was Lydia, the Jarl's daughter, and she had a small frown on her face. The noble cast to the woman's face should not be marred with such an expression. Dark steel-blue eyes peered into her own and the woman tilted her head only slightly to stare up into her own face.

'Can I help you?' she asked, wiping a small wrinkle in her robe.

'I wanted to thank you, elf.'

'For saving your life? No need. The Jarl would have had all our heads if you were killed. Perhaps you would go down slaying the dragon, and your name would be sung in all of the inns.' Elaninde mused, crossing her arms over her chest. 'Possibly not, since the Dragonborn was the one who slew it.'

'Irileth said you helped stopped the beast from devouring her.'

'That's because she's modest: She and Razahir helped rally the men together and I did manage get it with my magic, but we all helped.' The frown on the young woman's face deepened.

'And I got tossed aside like nothing.' Lydia said, teeth grinding together. Elaninde heard the creaking of metal and noticed that the woman's hand had formed into a fist.

'Most did not survive the same blow you took.' She pointed out, running her hand along her forearm. 'I'd consider you lucky… and if would like a bit of advice?'

Steel-blue met amber.

'Never sell yourself short.' Elaninde looked around her the first floor of the tower, noticing the guards still giving them angry looks. 'Also, thank all these simpletons as well. They faced the dragon just as well as you did.' Elaninde quickly strolled away, making her way towards the second set of stairs. She still had a bit of healing to do.

* * *

Elaninde drummed her fingers along the wooden table top. The mage sat in the well-furnished dining room in the Drunken Huntsman. The inn was quiet this late at night, and while it was not as filled as the Drunken Huntsman, the inn was still prosperous. And it was like that for a reason. Those who wanted peace and quiet stayed in the Drunken Huntsman while those did not mind to hear the gossip of the city went to the Bannered Mare. Elaninde, herself, preferred the Drunken Huntsman since it allowed her to gather her thoughts.

Which was what she was currently doing now.

For a week now, the mage had been staying at the inn her thoughts in turmoil. After Valeka had slayed the dragon, she had been proclaimed the newest Thane of Whiterun and currently, the woman had been locked up in Dragonsreach for the same amount of time. Elaninde had always wanted to visit her, to explain why she had been using her magic on her, but had lost the nerve every single time.

How does one explain that they used magic to slightly manipulate you into opening up to them? Every single time she had the thought, she sighed and took another sip from her alto wine. She took pickings of her food: mammoth steak, grilled leaks and a baked potato, but her mind was elsewhere and soon she lost interest in the food.

The door to the inn opened and a hush settled over the gathered patrons: they all turned as one towards the doors and Elaninde ignored the muttered gasps that rose though the tavern.

'Elaninde Caemoth?' A familiar voice carried through the room and Elaninde turned towards the doorway as well. 'Where are you, elf?'

A small frown crossed her lips and she let out a sigh of disappointment before she stood. Luckily, she towered over almost half the people in the inn could immediately see who had called her name. Lydia Balgruffsdottir stood at the entrance of the Drunken Huntsman, standing firm and unmoving even under the angry gazes of all the patrons. The Jarls daughter held a hand next to her side and Elaninde knew that she could draw it quickly and swiftly if needed. She had seen that first hand when the woman had journeyed into the Drunken Huntsman the first night and the tall Nord had cut down a cutthroat easily.

The Jarl's family was still despised in the Hold and recently, Lydia was the only one with the courage to go down into the city without a guard and still she managed to reach Drunken Huntsman no worse for wear. Her re-forged armor gleamed brightly under the faint illumination by fire and she immediately reminded Elaninde of a Knight of the Nine. A sigh escaped her lips.

'Over here like always, come on through.' She sat back down at table and, after a moment, her fingers began to drum along the table top once again. The crowd parted instantly as the heavily armored woman strolled between them, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Elaninde already knew that most of the gathered people would not attack the woman.

Lydia might have not known, but a few of the Harbingers friends were gathered among the crowd. Elaninde had picked them out in the crowd on the first night she had walked into the tavern. A female Dunmer in finely crafted elven armor and a massive woman in heavy steel plate armor had joined her on the first night and immediately she had recognized the pair. There were a few others, but they were too far into the crowd for her to pick them out. Occasionally, she would see them, but they disappeared rather quickly.

The chair creaked as Lydia's bulk settled into it, protesting loudly. The young woman placed her sword on top of the table, keeping it within easy reach. She stared at the plate of food in front of the elf and without a word pulled it in front of her and began to finish off the rest of it. Elaninde watched her, the corner of her thin lips twitching, amber eyes flashing in amusement as she finished the rest of her meal.

'How like a Nord to not ask and just take. Did your father ever teach you any manners?' she stared haughtily, smirk on her face. Lydia ignored her, devouring the food. Elaninde waited for her to finish, crossing her arms across her chest, catching the eye of the Dunmer in elven armor. The elf arched an elegant eyebrow in her direction, running her fingers across the blade of a glass dagger. She rolled her eyes and the elf smirked in her direction with a shrug of her shoulders before turning away from her.

Lydia sighed, pushing the plate away from her after a few minutes. 'I should come here more often. The cooks in Dragonsreach almost do not cook as well as the people down here.'

Elaninde scoffed. 'Of course it does. Anoriath and Elrindir hunt everything here. They do not get their food processed like your family does. Their food is probably the freshest meat you'll get on this side of Skyrim. Now, forget all the pleasantries, why are you here this time?' She took a sip of her drink.

'I want to become the Dragonborn's huscarl.' Elaninde paused, turning her full attention on the young woman. Lydia's face was resolute and hard, showing that she would not be swayed from her opinion. Elaninde titled her head curiously at the woman, looking her over carefully. She cupped her pointed chin, running her thumb across her cheek in thought.

'How do you plan on doing that?' asked Elaninde after a moment of silence.

Lydia sighed, cupping her gauntleted hands to her face. 'That I do not know. Somehow I need to show her that I can be her sworn sword without my father getting in the way. He will protest at my joining at first, but that will not matter if she is the one to accept me. But I need to prove myself first. I need to make a name of myself.'

'Have you thought of joining the Companions?' Elaninde questioned.

Lydia scoffed. 'Father already made sure that was not possible. Only my younger siblings will be able to join up with them. It's part of an old pack that the old Jarl of Whiterun came up with when Whiterun was basically a hovel. Three children the jarl must always have: one to join the administration, one to join the Companions and one to join the college.'

'But your father has four children.' Elaninde pointed out.

'Nelkir is lucky since he is basically a bastard. The blood of Kings does not flow as strongly as ours does.' Lydia stated with a shrug. Elaninde had almost forgotten that. Baseborn and commoner where some of the words people used to describe the last child of Balgruuf the Greater. Even if the man was practically a king… his blood had been defiled by woman who bore his last son. Nelkir would be able to probably become a scribe at the court if anything. Then again… dark whispers also surrounded the child so who knew what could happen to him in the late future.

'I love my brother, but he will be fine in the coming years. He'll probably set off on his own someday and who knows what he will accomplish?' Lydia looked down towards the table. 'Who knows… perhaps with this plan, he will be able to go to the college instead.'

'What is your plan?'

'I have to make a name for myself… somehow I will make a name for myself that everyone in the hold will sing… and then I will be worthy to become the huscarl to her.'

'And you're telling me all of this because?'

'I want your help… and you know her better than anyone else.'

Elaninde frowned at that. The thoughts of her apology returned to her along with something… else… The Altmer saw a way out, a way to help the get back into Valeka's good side. The Dragonborn certainly needed allies in this new land of Skyrim since she had lost her memory. Any help would be appreciated and if what she offered did help her… perhaps she would allow her to explain herself when she found her again.

'I will help you,' answered Elaninde, finishing off the remnants of her wine.

* * *

A/N: Just a small filler chapter that adds a bit to to the story. Hopefully it shows a bit on to why Elaninde does what she does and kinda adds on how Lydia will slowly fit into her role. I have decided that this will be the official reason to change the title of the story once again, since this is about the tales of people in Skyrim and not just the Dragonborn.


	11. Interlude

A/N: Writing block sucks because this chapter refused to write itself out. Finally, I just went with what I thought sounded good and here we are. Hopefully, its not too bad.

* * *

Valeka threw down the last journal with considerable force. The journal skidded across the desk in the guest room of the Jarl, and sent a pile of papers scattering around. She cursed loudly, standing quickly and moving over to the scattered papers. She gathered them quickly and once they were in haphazard pile, she placed them back on the corner of the desk with a sigh.

'I should have never agreed to this,' she mumbled softly. She ran a hand on her tired face, trying to wipe away the wariness that had settled into her.

For weeks now, she had been stuck inside of Dragonsreach, leaning all she could about the state of Whiterun: munitions and how well supplied the guards were, taxes and levies being leveled against the citizens, defenses for the walls and against the walls in case the city was under attack. So much information that it made her head hurt to think about it now.

She grabbed the cup at the end of her desk and sipped the wine inside slowly. The rich taste calmed her down, slightly.

A knock on the door made her turn.

'It's open,' she called out.

The door opened slowly and Lydia stepped inside the room. Valeka still did not know what to make of the family of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. The Jarl's family consisted of five members and Lydia was the eldest daughter the man had. She was a fine warrior if what the guards said about her were true. The young woman was clad in a heavy suit of armor, her blade on her hip and shield on her back.

Curiously, Valeka looked over towards her window. The sun was pouring gently from the palace window and she found herself frowning. She had been up all night once again.

'Lydia, correct?' she questioned, turning back and facing the woman.

The Jarl's daughter stepped forward, inclining her head. She was glancing around her modest quarters, taking in all the sights of the room. Her armor creaked slightly as she gazed around the room before she paused a few feet away from her, eying the journals and papers on the desk.

Valeka raised one eyebrow in curiosity, crossing her arms over her chest. 'What can I do for you? Does your father have need of me?'

Immediately, Lydia shook her head. 'No, no, no. This is for your ears only.' She glanced at the door for just a moment, let out a sigh and faced her once more. 'My father has told you enough about the state of the hold?' Lydia asked.

Valeka waved a hand at the papers. 'It's all there… well most of it anyways.'

'Not everything. Have you left this place since you defeated your dragon? Been to the bar, or any of the taverns?'

'I can't say I have. I've been in Dragonsreach for… I don't even know anymore.'

'Three weeks.' Lydia helpfully supplied. 'The people of Whiterun are starting to believe that you're nothing but a myth and Ulfric is finally being called to High Hrothgar.'

'What?'

'People of Whiterun think you're a myth and that Ulfric has been called to High Hrothgar. You still must be welcomed as the Dragonborn and only the Greybeards can officially recognize you.' Lydia explained. 'All of Tamriel heard when the Greybeards named Talos of Atmora 'Stormcrown' and afterwards people flocked to his banner.'

Valeka tilted her head curiously at that. 'Really? People actually flocked towards him?'

'He had to go around and gather forces for his war eventually, right? Soon afterwards he formed the Empire and look where it is now.' Lydia smiled at that and Valeka snorted. 'What's so funny?'

'Too bad he could not live forever,' she muttered, walking towards the desk. 'I wonder if he would be ashamed about how 'mighty' his Empire is now; fractured and almost at war with the elves of the Dominion and lead by a weak Emperor.' She sat along the edge of the desk, facing Lydia.

'He achieved godhood.' The Jarl's daughter pointed out.

'If only he still walked among us as a mortal. He could deal with these naysayers and take control of the Empire once again and take the fight to the Thalmor.'

Lydia remained silent.

Valeka shook her head and pushed off the desk. 'I'm sure you did not come here to discuss the state of the Empire. What is it you need?'

'You still have not journeyed to the Throat of the World to visit the Greybeards. Why is that?'

'No time.' Valeka patted the top of the parchment and journals with disgust. 'This pile just keeps growing, and growing, and growing. Whiterun is in a terrible state and it will not be changing anytime soon. Someone has to make sure this all gets better and I will take up the reins if need be.'

'Why? That's Proventus and my father's job. You are the Dragonborn, not some steward.'

'I do not want to see Whiterun in shambles, or torn apart from the inside.' Valeka responded with. She leaned over the desk, looking over all the pieces of papers.

Lydia scoffed and Valeka looked at her in surprise. 'You think that this is the only time that the city had the people almost at the point of rioting? You have much to learn, Dragonborn.' Lydia shook her head. 'My father has lead the hold for years now and Whiterun has been in this state for… years now. It's honorable that you wish to not see it destroyed, but I would not worry about things like that. Whiterun will stand firm even if Ulfric decides to attack.'

'Are you sure?'

Lydia shook her head and turned away, heading towards the door. 'If you need the proof, let us have a chat with my father then?' With that, she stepped out of the room and disappeared from Valeka's site. The Dragonborn stood in the guest room for a moment before she followed the Jarl's daughter.

The hallway that led to the bedrooms of Dragonsreach were rather impressive and lavishly decorated. The walls were decorated with tapestries and drapes with the emblem of Whiterun displayed proudly. A few weapon cases held the famed arms that Jarl Balgruuf had used in his younger days. Valeka looked over the fine crafted steel sword in one of the cases and she could feel the familiar magicka that flowed of the blade. _Fire_ , she thought, feeling the powerful enchantment even from this far away. _The mage who made this must have been powerful_.

They approached a pair of guards and one of them opened the door for them as they approached and Lydia inclined her head in their direction.

'Thank you, Rongar,' she said as she passed by. The guard nodded and Valeka thanked him as well.

They stepped inside the area that led to the war room of the Jarl. The room was – surprisingly – sparsely decorated. A long table took up most of the room and sitting on it were maps with blue and red flags on them and a chest sat beneath the table. A few cupboards and dressers sat rested against the walls and their contents were filled with books and journals. Valeka had been to this place a couple of times before and knew that they were filled with the movements of the Empire and Stormcloak armies. They were well detailed and she wondered how Proventus had managed to fill all the books without his hand cramping.

A half dozen people surrounded the Jarl's war table. Balgruuf the Greater stood in the center of the table, flanked by Proventus and Irileth. His tired gaze was locked on the map beneath him and his head was slightly tilted. Hrongar stood beside Irileth, looking over the map as well and was pointing out the red marks.

'Stormcloak scouts have been seen at the edges of the boarders, brother. It looks like they may be gathered a camp in the nearby mountains. We should send a strike force out and destroy them while we have a chance.' The man was saying as they stepped inside the room.

'Ulfric will think we've already taken a side in his war.' The deep voice of the Harbinger of the Companions rumbled as towered next to Proventus. The Redguard's eyes unnoticed flicked in their direction and he gave them a minute nod before he stooped down low to look at the table. 'As much as I would like to take the fight to Ulfric, Whiterun must be secured before we even think about attacking the Stormcloaks, or even the Imperials for that matter.'

A grim silence settled after the man's words. Valeka stared at the faces of the gathered crowd and noticed that they all were… unconcerned about the man's words. And a moment later she realized that they were prepared in case of an Imperial and Stormcloak attack. The thought made her pause for just a moment before she pushed it away. She would think about that later.

'We need allies before we even begin to start striking out against the Stormcloaks.' The man placed a massive digit on map. She recognized it as the swampy region of Morthal and watched him trace a line up past the mountains and to the northern lands that held Dawnstar before he finally stopped on the woodlands that made up Riften. 'Morthal, Dawnstar and Riften are all still neutral. They have not thrown their lot in with the Stormcloaks, or the Empire for that matter. We should start at these places and ally with them first if we want to take the fight to Ulfric's supporters.'

Hrongar remained silent.

'Do not forget Winterhold.' A silky voice piped up. Valeka frowned deeply as she heard the familiar voice. From out of the shadows came Elaninde Caemoth, the mage idly tapping a finger on her chin. She joined them at the table without ceremony, looking it over with her amber eyes.

'That ruined place? Why would we even need their help? The local Jarl there has already shown that he supports Ulfric completely.' Hrongar muttered.

'I am not speaking of the local populace.' The elf responded with, a small smile passing over her face. Hrongar frowned at that.

'Mages?'

'Mages,' she confirmed. 'I would need to speak with Savos Aren, but perhaps I could gather a bit of support and you could have a few mages ally with you all.'

'Enough,' Balgruuf stated firmly. 'We are not going to war with the Imperials, or the Stormcloaks; I do not want to hear anymore war strategies, or ambushes against the Empire, or Ulfric's men, understood? However, you are both right; we will need allies and I have sat on my throne for enough time to decide for our course of action.' The man stared at the table, his tired gaze settling on Whiterun. 'We will need allies,' he repeated. 'Lucky for us, Morthal and Dawnstar are in need. I have been corresponding with Morthal and apparently, they have a bit of a problem out in the marshes. A supernatural problem.'

Razahir perked up at that, his gaze passing to the Jarl. 'Supernatural? Such as?'

'Jarlessa Idgrod Ravencrone is silent on such matters, but she needs a bit of aid.'

'I'll go.' The Harbinger stated. 'I am curious on what sort of supernatural thing haunts that place.'

'Are you sure? I would hate to get into your work.'

Razahir waved him away, saying: 'I've been wanting to get out of town for some time now. My project can wait. I'll take Aela with me as well. She could do with some time outside as well.'

'Only two people?' Irileth commented. 'With dragons in the sky, do you think it would be kind of dangerous?'

The giant's rumbling laughter carried through the room. 'The roads of Skyrim have been dangerous since I've been here. A few dragons will not stop us and if they do… well at least we died with a weapon in our hands.'

'Or in dragonfire.' Elaninde commented.

Razahir chuckled at that. 'Or in dragonfire,' he confirmed. The giant peered at the table, lost in thought, before he nodded his head. 'I'll go and prepare now. I'll send a raven or courier when we arrive and if you haven't received anything within a week, assume we have perished.'

'Father,' Lydia stepped towards the table, making herself known. The occupants of the room showed no surprise that they arrived and moved their gaze in their direction. Valeka approached at her side, her gaze firmly away from Elaninde. Instead, she looked at the others in the room. She felt anger flash briefly in her chest, and ground her teeth together. 'Why hasn't the Dragonborn been welcomed by the Greybeards?'

The Jarl tilted his head slightly, gazing at his daughter curiously. 'If you had not interrupted me, you would know that my next proclamation was to grant Valeka the right to go and journey to the Throat of the World. I have held her here for quite some time now and it is unfair for the people of Whiterun to not see the one who saved them from a dragon.'

Valeka hid the slowly growing smile behind her hand. The look that the Jarl was giving his daughter now was rather humorous. Lydia's face slowly began to form a scowl and red began to flow along her cheeks. The others around the table looked away from the embarrassed woman.

'Is there anything else you need, daughter?' the Jarl questioned, his brow raised in question. Lydia glanced around the room once and straightened, her eyes flashing with something.

'Yes,' she began slowly, a small smile passing over her face. 'I have decided to help the Dragonborn on her duty and since she has not been to the Throat of the World, I will guide her there.'

The Jarl frowned deeply at that. He searched for words to say, probably an excuse to use, but Valeka had read through the reports enough times to know that Balgruuf had no other men to spare. The sly grin on Lydia's face showed that she knew it as well. The Jarl bowed his head and turned towards her.

'Please, keep her safe.'

'My lord,' Proventus began to say, but Balgruuf raised his hand and the man closed his mouth instantly.

'We have no one to spare and she is right, the way to the Throat of the World is perilous and the Dragonborn will need a guide.' He stated. 'Please, keep her safe, Valeka. She is my first-born and I would hate for me to end up out living her.'

Valeka inclined her head as a heavy weight fell among her shoulders. 'Of course, my Jarl.'

'Gather your gear and prepare yourself, Dragonborn. Hopefully, by the time you return, we have a huscarl prepared for you.'

'Thank you, my Jarl.' She bowed in his direction and he waved her off. 'Lydia, make sure that you take the enchanted bags and get yourself some decent armor. If you are going to go with her, I want you protected and armed as well as possible.'

'Yes, father,' she said.

'I do not think that we need to explain anything else? Elaninde? I assume you'll be heading off to the College later?'

'Yes. I have been gone from there for quite some time.' She said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her index finger was still on her chin and she peered at the map curiously. 'I will be leaving in the morning.'

'Take this with you.' The Harbinger said, reaching into the folds of his clothing. He produced a book and handed it over to the elf. 'I've already learned the spell from it; rather interesting piece of magicka.'

Elaninde looked it over as well, tilting her head curiously. 'A transmutation spell? This is a very rare spell indeed.' She opened the book, looking through its pages curiously. 'It can transmute iron ore into silver ore and silver into gold… where did you find this?'

'Bandit camp just a bit north from here. Farengar is an elemental mage, so he would probably not be able to use it, but I am sure the mages at the College will find a use.'

'They will. The alteration mages will know what to do with this. If everything goes well, you may even have a supply of gold and silver coming to you in the future if the mages learn the spell correctly.'

'That's the best news I've heard in ages.' The Jarl muttered. 'If you can manage this, Elaninde, I will be in your debt.'

The Altmer inclined her head sharply and placed the book inside of her robes. 'Do not worry about it. The sooner we leave, the faster I can return home. If you will excuse me.' She departed the table swiftly and her robes billowed around her as she made her way down the steps.

'Aela and I will need to get ready for the journey.' The giant followed the elf, his large form disappearing down the steps as well.

'I suppose you two will be heading off as well?' The Jarl asked, eyebrow raised in interest.

'What of Whiterun?' Valeka could not help but ask.

'We will still be here by the time you return. I am sure that the Harbinger did not offer to send any Companions with you is because they all will stay here in case we do get attacked. With the Companions and the walls secured, we will be able to hold the city in case it gets attacked. Even a dragon would have trouble facing this cities walls.'

Valeka nodded her head, knowing that the matter was finished. It looked like she was finally heading to the Throat of the World. She gave the table one last look, her eyes immediately heading towards where the Throat of the World sat. The journey would take some time and hopefully by the time she returned, Whiterun would not be some ruin.

She turned away from the table, frowning slightly as she followed after Lydia.

* * *

Deep in the Jerall Mountains, a whisper of power flowed through the air. It began as a soothing breeze and then turned into a crescendo of power. It flowed swiftly through the currents of the wind and slid across the ruined fortress of Skuldafn. The whisper continued to trail across the fortress and slipped deep into the main temple of the monastery.

It passed over the sarcophagi that were held among the walls of the tomb, touching the inhabitants of the caskets. The sound of breaking stone echoed through the old tomb and eerie blue lights could be seen within the darkness. Old bones creaked as the figures inside moved and stepped into the hallways and courtyards of dragon temple.

The main chamber of the temple was filled with old cracked urns. The smell of rot and decay was heavy in the oppressive air of the temple and the whisper of power grew into a mighty darkness. A shadow formed above an elaborately decorated casket with snarling dragons and bowed figures etched into the stone of the casket.

'Nahkriin! Awaken and serve your lord once again!' A rumbling hiss filled the room. The hissed voice was one that had brought ruin to various cities and enslaved many in its time on the mortal world of Nirn. A deep, resonant voice of strength and malice that could shake the world with its power. The voice repeated the words once again and this time it Shouted, the echoes causing the old fortress to tremble.

The lid of the casket erupted from within with devastating force as unrelenting force pushed upwards from within. With a piercing wail, the Dragon Priest of old floated upwards and out of its tomb that had held it for thousands of years. The desiccated corpse floated above the ground, held aloft by magicka. A squinting mask of ebony rested on its face with arcane sigils resting on its forehead and mouthpiece.

The dry husk of the corpse peered around the chamber that was slowly starting to fill with other draugr. It tilted its head and stared around the slowly filling chamber. It froze when it felt the presence of its Thuri and immediately lowered its head in supplication. The rest in the chamber followed suit, the former cultists falling to their knees as one.

'My time in the afterlife is finally coming to an end.' The sibilant hiss echoed through the silent halls of the tomb. 'Soon, my power will return and I will rise once more! Gather the remains of my body and bring them back here!'

The priest of old bowed its head and turned to face the legion of undead that were gathered at the foot of the dais. It raised its desiccated hand and huge, hulking draugr stepped forward out of the crowd. The undead priest issued the same orders of their overlord to the mass of gathered monsters and slowly they marched off, leaving the chamber empty.

When the priest was left alone above its head, a shadow enveloped the room.

'Nahkriin…' the sibilant hiss spoke once again. The priest inclined its head sharply and raised its hands in supplication. 'You are to gather the other priests, and begin to fortify the fortress' of old. When I return, we shall finish what I started…'

* * *

Antidas Cassius Tullius, Military Governor of Skyrim, entered Solitude a month and a half after the disaster of Helgen. He rode at the head of his honor guard – the Scarlet Cloaks – up the cobblestone path to the Storm Gate. The sun shined bright down on the remains of his company from Helgen, showing the wariness that all of them had felt.

General Tullius was an aging man in his early fifties, but his body was strong and his mind sharp. As he rode up the main road, he looked around at the dark stone walls that surrounded him and felt his body begin to relax.

Solitude was starting to remind him of a second home. A small frown passed over his face. That was… troubling.

His company passed beneath the gate, thought the thick stone that made up the walls and strode right into the Wells district of the city. This was the shopping district of the city and a low pall of smoke hung over the city from the forge masters and crafters from the city. The Imperial war machine was still functioning even after he had left and he knew that his orders to Legate Rikke were seen through. If he made it through the war, he would ask the Emperor himself if he could grant the young woman a promotion to general; She would make a great successor.

As he marched through the city, the citizens noticed him and raised a cry. Cheers were soon following him and his progression as they marched through the street. General Tullius kept his face blank and raised his hand to cheers of adulation, the corners of his lips almost twisting into a frown.

As he reached the junction between the road, he briefly thought about turning his horse towards the Blue Palace, but thought better of it. He did not feel like dealing with the Jarlessa, now, and knowing Elisif, she would probably be on her way to see him. Instead, he turned his mount towards the switchbacks that lead up to Castle Dour. As he entered the courtyard, another cheer rose through the air.

The XVIII legion of the Empire greeted him as he passed beneath one of the gates that lead into the courtyard. Claps and salutes filled the courtyard of the great city and Tullius sighed in pleasure as he felt himself relax completely. The rest of his company filed in behind him and he turned towards them.

'Take a break, legionaries, you have earned the rest.' The tired company sighed as one and quickly broke apart, heading inside the large castle and off to the barracks. Tullius slid off his horse slowly, his armored feet striking the ground with a clang and guided his mount to a nearby stable. He would have used the ones at the Storm Gate, but decided against it since Castle Dour had its own. A shadow covered him slightly and he reached up and pulled his helmet off his head, placing it in the crook of his arm.

'Legate Rikke – a pleasure as always,' he greeted the woman that almost towered over him. She saluted him as soon as he had faced her. A stable boy ran up and took the reins of his horse and drew her away. 'At ease, legate.' The woman relaxed instantly, her hands going back to her sides. 'What has happened since I've been gone? Has anything changed?'

'Not much, sir. A few regiments have arrived; arms and trade goods as well. Our forges are still hot and have been manned day and night to keep up with our soldiers. How did it go at Helgen?'

'We lost Ulfric,' a frown marred his features and he began to walk to Castle Dour. 'A dragon appeared before Ulfric could be executed and Ulfric killed it.'

'So the Greybeards have proclaimed him Dragonborn?'

Tullius massaged his temples, shaking his head slowly. 'Do not be like the rest of the men. No, Ulfric is not this "Dragonborn."'

'But the Greybeards –'

'Yes, they shouted and said the words, but not after Ulfric slew the monster. This happened weeks after Helgen, legate, and while we were on the road. Some of the soldiers thought the same thing, but it's not _him_. Someone _else_ has been called; another of the dragon blood is somewhere in Skyrim.'

'Another?' Legate Rikke mumbled, following him as they made their way through the courtyard. They passed among the crowd of training legionaries and reached the massive oak doors that lead into Castle Dour. The Caste itself had been built into the mountain itself and Tullius marveled once again how Nords could make such great structures. Despite that they were barbarians, he could certainly appreciate what they could craft with their hands. They would be able to rival Imperials when they were once more under the leash of the Empire.

'Yes, another. We need to find them before Ulfric gets his grimy paws all over them.'

'This war just continues to get harder.'

'Yes, yes it does, but we will not give even if the Dragonborn falls in line with Ulfric. I will die before I see that pretender put on the throne.'

'The Moot still needs to be held and as of now, Skyrim is still divided.'

'But for how long?' Tullius questioned, stepping into the map room. It was just the same as he last saw it. Spartan in appearance just like most of the Imperial Legions headquarters. Legate Adventus Caesennius saluted as he stepped inside the room and he waved the man off as he stepped up to the map table. His breathed slowly as he hunched over the table, looking over the blue and red flags. Still the same. 'More people flock to Ulfric's banner and he has the advantage of knowing this land. Our soldiers know hardly anything about this damn landscape and every day this war continues onward they gain enough ground to fight against us. Guerrilla tactics, raids on our supply lines, and outright sabotage and subterfuge. The rebels will win the war; it's only a matter of time.'

'Not if we find the Dragonborn,' the legate said, stepping into her usual spot across the table from him. He looked up from the map, his brow raised in interest.

'What do you mean?'

'The Dragonborn could unite everyone together; they could show that the Empire is right in what it is doing if they managed to join us. The Stormcloaks would begin to doubt Ulfric and everyone in Skyrim would see this as a rallying call that Ulfric is wrong.'

The general grunted as he thought this over, his mind quickly dismantling and putting everything back together from the legate's words. He looked in Adventus' direction and saw the look of slowly growing understanding on his face and wondered if his own face was doing the same thing.

'My people view the Dragonborn as a hero, and if it's the actual Greybeards that called, they can Shout as well. This has not happened since the Tiber Septim himself was called and made the journey to the Throat of the World.'

'So they can help us in the long run,' Tullius straightened, running his fingers across his lower jaw, his mind twisting and turning. His mind began to plan for this new development and he nodded thoughtfully. 'Find her then, I want this Dragonborn found and invited here. Send out couriers to our legionaries and send word to the Emperor as well. He must be informed of this new development.'

Both legates saluted at him and left the room to complete his orders, leaving Tullius by himself in the map room, looking over the map curiously.

* * *

'Report,' the silky voice said.

The scout kept her face towards the ground, orange eyes staring at the fine boots of her lord. 'Milord, it appears we may have found what you have been searching for.'

The figure in the throne leaned forward, his hands digging into the armrests of the throne. His face, once cast in shadow, was revealed. He was a handsome man with the regal features of an old king. 'Tell me, now,' he demanded, his interest heard through all in the court.

'We have searched almost over all of Tamriel, but she appears to have hidden her right under our noses. The Hall of Vigilants, milord. They have hidden her in the nearby mountain under lock and key.'

The lord of the court leaned back in his throne, his hands coming together, fingers touching each other. The shadow enveloped the top part of his face once more and his eyes were glowing pinpricks in the gloom. They narrowed slightly in the darkness.

'Send word to the others; I want her found and brought to me. Find Lokil and have him gather a few of the thin bloods and thralls and send a force to the Hall of Vigilant.'

'Yes, milord.'

Lord Harkon Volkihar smiled widely, revealing his sharp canine teeth, dark intent flashing in his eyes.

* * *

A/N: Not too bad, I hope. Finally, we have Valeka actually moving away from Whiterun and getting the story moved forward just a bit. The use of 'Jarlessa' is from J. APPLEGATE's story: The Nerevarine's Return since it rolls off the tongue rather easily and highly recommend to take a look at.

A/N 2: If you all are looking at this on 5/5/2017 and onward, you may ignore this little part. I decided to combine chapter 11 and twelve together since they were both interlude chapters just explaining a few things in the background hopefully.


	12. Journey to Morthal

The Journey to Morthal

'Is that everything?' Aela questioned.

Razahir nodded his head as finished stuffing the rest of their supplies into the enchanted bag. He tied the drawstring tightly, closing the lip of the bag and he slung it across his armored shoulder. He faced Aela and a small grin appeared on his face.

The Huntress was clad in the armor he had crafted for her. The volcanic glass armor shined from the nearby candle light and belted at her side was a glass longsword and a glass dagger. A buckler rested along her back and next to it was a bow and quiver filled with arrows. All of it was crafted personally at the Skyforge and was one of his proud achievements of the forge itself. She was prepared for their adventure.

'Yes,' he rumbled. 'All of this should last us until Morthal, but I would like to get resupply when we pass through Black Moor. Who knows what we'll stumbled across on the way through Labyrinthian.'

'Trolls have taken up residence there, if I remember correctly.' Aela commented as she backed out of the doorway and Razahir followed her, closing the door to their room. He did not bother locking it, he knew no one would snoop around and Tilma had to clean later; she would probably lock it after she was finished.

'You're right. We should be able to handle it together, don't you think?'

'I never shy away from a fight.' She responded and Razahir's smile grew.

The pair continued through the living area beneath Jorrvaskr, passing by a few others. The fresh-faced recruits and novices that had not gone through with their trials stared at them as they passed by. Razahir and Aela ignored most of the looks; the Circle were used to the looks of awe in their direction and had learned to ignore them, or greet those that had shown promise, a rare smile. Tilma the Haggard was working diligently along with a few other of the maids and servants that had joined the Companions. A warm smile passed over the old woman's face as she saw them and the pair returned the smiles as they walked past her and up the steps that lead to the dining area of the Companions.

Voices carried in the great mead hall: scattered conversations about old battles and great conquests over enemies. Close victories and even a few deaths of warriors were spoken in soft, solemn tomes by others. The great fire pit surrounded by the feast table was crowded with warriors and novices and Razahir took it all in, a feeling of content rising in his breast.

 _My pack is content_ , the warrior thought, looking through the hall. He noticed Farkas and Vilkas were speaking silently among themselves in a corner of the room and the twins looked up when they felt his gaze on them. Identical brows were raised as they stared in their direction. Razahir directed his head towards the large, intricate doors that led to the back of Jorrvaskr. The twins took the hint and exited the hall, and the werewolves followed them.

Outside, beneath the loft of the porch, the Circle met once more.

'We are heading to Morthal soon,' Razahir said. 'You both know what must be done?'

'Aye,' Vilkas said. 'I still think it's too soon to be adding more warriors to the Circle and taking in the beast blood.'

'They must accept it at some point Vilkas, all of us know what lurks deep inside of each of us.' Razahir retorted. 'You must let them all know what they are getting into when they accept the blessing.'

'I know,' Vilkas grumbled. 'I just wish we could take Kodlak's choice as well when he… fell.' The warrior frowned deeply at that.

Razahir knew that the old man's death still affected him, especially since his wish was granted when he fell. Luckily for the old man, his spirit had been purged before he had left to Sovngarde. The other Circle members were not as lucky… the witches in the coven had long departed their old cave system in the Reach and they had taken the cure with them as well. He knew Vilkas would still send out missives to find the witches, but that proved ineffective. The Glenmoril Coven had vanished and could not be found and probably never would be. A sobering thought when those who fell would be in the service of a Daedric Prince when they moved on.

He and Aela had long since accepted that when they died, they would be hunting with the Father of Manbeasts for the rest of their lives. The only thing he hoped for was that he would be able to continue to hunt with the rest of the Circle if that happened.

He reached out and clasped the warriors shoulder. 'We know, brother,' he responded empathetically. 'We know.' Farkas remained silent, his hand squeezing his opposite shoulder as well. Aela, surprisingly, joined them in comforting the man, hugging him at his side. The Circle remained silent as they silently comforted the reluctant Nord before the warrior coughed in embarrassment. They stepped away from him as if nothing had happened.

'Athis, Njada, Torvar, and Ria,' Vilkas muttered, pulling himself together. 'They will be taking the blood, right?'

'Aye,' Aela chimed in. 'They've all been here long enough and have taken their trials. Torvar may be a drunk, but he is deadly with that sword of his.'

'That he is,' Razahir commented. He had seen the drunken Nord shrug off blows that would hurt others, and in his drunken state, he felt nothing. It would probably be a problem later down the line, but the Circle needed more members. With all the recruits flooding into Jorrvaskr, the Circle members would be hard pressed to answer all the recruit's questions and grant them different trials.

'Are you still going to separate the title of Harbinger from the Circle?' Farkas chimed in.

'Yes, the Circle would still be even and we would probably never be able to make certain decisions. My title of Harbinger would give one an unfair advantage and with the title of Harbinger having no influence I can truly become an advisor for all of us.'

The members all nodded and Razahir dipped his head. 'We need to expand as well. Hopefully, after the return from Morthal we can expand our ranks to the other holds. Whiterun was the founding city of our order, but if we expand to the other holds, our recruits could be found everywhere in Skyrim.'

'The Fighters Guild of Skyrim?' Vilkas said.

'No, we will be better than those Imperial bastards,' Razahir said with a grin on his face. The gathered warriors chuckled at that. 'We will discuss it more when Aela and I return, just try not to burn down Jorrvaskr while we are gone, eh?'

'Aye' both brothers said at the same time and they both departed into the hall.

'Are you ready, love?' Razahir asked when the door closed fully.

She grunted, already moving off the porch. 'I've been ready; you doing your advising stuff is the reason why we have not left yet.'

* * *

They had traveled hard from Whiterun, and ended up in Black Moor on the second day of travel. They had refilled their supplies quickly before going on the move once more. The path from the city built into the mountain was largely uneventful and the only time they received a bit of trouble was in Harmvir's Rest. The undead had risen out of their graves in the small graveyard, but they were no match for the Harbinger and Huntress.

The journey continued for a few quiet days and nights with the occasional roar of a dragon echoing down from the mountains. They made sure to keep their weapons close and their eyes towards the sky as they moved on.

They found trouble as they passed through the old city of Labyrinthian.

'Do you hear that?' Aela questioned, bow unslung and an arrow notched into the bowstring.

Razahir inclined his head, looking at the old gate in front of them. The dark stone was worn away by time and the snowfall. A low bellow erupted from the ruins once again.

'Trouble,' he grunted and made his way forward.

Labyrinthian was a great Nordic city in its prime, but that had been long ago when the Dragon Cults ruled Skyrim with an iron fist. And now all of it was gone and covered in snow. As they passed beneath a broken archway, they found what was going on in the old ruin.

Draugr were being massacred by pale hide Trolls. One of the draugr was pounded to the ground by the hulking monster while another got its head torn off by a backhand swipe of the creature's paw. One of the undead warriors scored a bow with a massive greatsword, cutting deep into the monster's chest. The monster looked down at the blow, watching as the cut sealed itself close. It bellowed as it crushed the monster with a two-handed close-fist blow.

Aela and Razahir watched the battle in amusement.

'You do not see something like this every day.' Aela said at his side. Razahir chuckled.

'That is true. I wonder how long have they been going at this for.' He looked over the battlefield, noticing that undead bodies were scattered across the field of snow. The corpses were torn apart and scattered around the vast ruined courtyard. Razahir only noticed one of the furry pelts that signaled the death of a single troll.

'Looks like it's been quite some time.' Aela responded, looking it over as well. A sigh escaped her. 'We should get rid of the trolls while they're busy.'

'We should. Who knows, who has been trying to use this path to get to Whiterun? Countless of people could have lost their lives just by going this way. Let's get to it then, eh?' He raised Terminus. 'I'll take them close and you get them from afar?'

'Sound like a plan.' She raised her bow and drew an arrow from her quiver. The tip of the arrowhead glowed slightly as she pulled it back and let it fly. When the arrow struck the troll in its hulking back, its body seized up – ramrod straight – as the enchanted arrow did its work, shocking it to death.

Razahir was already moving before she released her bow, running across the snow with a cat-like grace. His movements were unimpeded and sure, not even slipping once as he cleared the ground. The first troll was complete unprepared for his first strike. Its three-eyed head tumbled through the air, its eyes blinking stupidly in its skull.

The second managed to face him before his blade sheathed itself inside its chest, sending it backwards. His next stroke sent the head rolling in the snow as well and he cursed slightly. Terminus only had a lightning enchantment on the blade and while it could do a bit more damage against a troll, the beasts regenerative abilities would still kick in at some point. He would have to use his magicka.

The Harbinger had a decent enough magical talent in his blood. He could cast a few spells from the restoration school of magic, but his real talent laid in two other ones: destruction and enchanting. Destruction spells were rather easy to cast, but the ones that required a higher pool of magicka would prove to be inefficient to him. Once, Elaninde had shown him a spell and wanted to cast a high magic spell… the results had proved rather disastrous and he was lucky to not burn himself out afterwards. And enchanting… well... people were surprised when they found that he could use two enchantments at once to make a weapon.

With that thought, he raised his hand, calling the arcane energies into his palm. His gauntlet became red hot, steaming rising instantly from the piece of metal. He got close to the beast, his open palm thrusting forward. The troll was rocketed backwards, its chest a fiery ruin. Razahir swung his hand around, a ball of fire erupting out of his palm. The next troll screamed as it went up into flames, the fireball erupting across its flesh, searing it instantly.

He did not even look backwards as the draugr approached him from behind, hearing Aela's missile puncture the undead. A draugr with a deadly looking axe charged him silently, blue eyes glittering with dark intent. Razahir grabbed the haft of the ancient weapon with his burning hand, and drove his knee into the fiend's chest. His blow shattered the sternum of the monster easily and he threw the corpse aside with a flick of his wrist. A revenant latched onto his shoulder guard, seeking to pull him down into the snow. With a sneer of contempt, he backhanded the monster, its head tearing off its shoulders from the powerful blow.

He fell onto the rest of the undead with fire and sword, the monsters stood no match against him and soon enough, he stood in the center of the carnage, breathing easily. He kept his sword out and ready, just in case he was ambushed by one last foe. Aela approached him slowly, her bow out and an arrow still notched to its string.

'I think that's all of them,' she muttered, sharp eyes looking over the corpses. She kicked one of the trolls gently, bow trained on the beast. Its body did not respond and Aela narrowed her eyes and released her arrow into its three-eyed head just in case.

'I believe you are correct.' The lycan tilted his head, listening sharply to the sounds around them. He heard nothing and sheathed his sword slowly. 'Wonder what caused the draugr to act like this?'

'I have no idea,' answered Aela, looking them over. It was unusual for the undead Nord's to be seen outside of their barrows. She frowned thoughtfully, wonder just what could have caused all of this to happen. 'Perhaps, we should ask Elaninde if we see her again?'

'That sounds like a plan.' Razahir surveyed the area for just a bit longer. Something about this area felt odd… and he could not put his finger on it. He sniffed the air cautiously, but nothing broke through his senses. He frowned thoughtfully before he turned with Aela as she placed her bow back on her back and they left the ruined city behind them.

* * *

Morthal sat on the southern edge of the Drajkmyr marsh. The city was modestly sized; built on both, dry land and over the marshland that made up the city. Fog covered the city in a shroud, and the faint illumination of torch light and hanging lanterns gave the city a foreboding appearance. The twisted trees growing inside and outside the city added to the city's appearance and Razahir felt a ghost of a smile pass over his face.

'Hail, Harbinger,' a guard greeted as they passed beneath the gate of the city. The guard stared up at the giant in his ebony plate mail. 'The Jarlessa's been expecting you. She's waiting for you up at Highmoon Hall.' The guard jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the massive wooden building that was just down the street.

The Harbinger grunted and made his way down the street, Aela at his side. As they made their way down the main street a curious aroma floated into his nose. Aela tilted her head at his side, her own nostrils flaring as she caught the scent as well.

'That is certainly… interesting.' The woman said, her hand settling on the hilt of her glass dagger, Talon.

'I wonder what is going on in Morthal…' Razahir muttered as they continued to approach Highmoon Hall. A pair of guards wielding spears stood at the foot of the stairs that led to the hall. The Harbinger took two steps to clear the stairs and his head brushed against the ceiling of the porch of the hall as he reached the landing. He opened the door for Aela and she smiled at him as she strolled into the hall.

Razahir looked back once more, his eyes scanning the surroundings before he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

The Jarlessa's home was largely different from Jarl's Balgruuf's home. It was not as large as Balgruuf's court, for one. Where one could get lost quite easily in the maze that made up the Jarl of Whiterun's manor, the Jarl of Morthal was surprisingly simple. In the entrance way sat a large dining table that was largely cleared of food. The dining hall lead deeper into the main hall of the manor and sitting on top of dais was a simple throne that held the Jarlessa of Morthal, Idgrod Ravencrone and in front of her were two people and surrounding the dais were two guards holding large halberds in hand.

As they approached, one of the men glanced in their direction. 'Ah, the Harbinger of the Companions, glad of you to finally join us. I am Aslfur – steward of Highmoon Hall – and husband of the Jarlessa, pleasure for you to join us.' He pointed at the man at his side. 'And this is Movarth Piquine, thane of Morthal. And, of course, the Jarlessa herself, Jarlessa Idgrod Ravencrone.'

'The former vampire hunter?' Razahir stated as he approached, looking over the vampire. He was bald headed and his face was slightly chiropteran in appearance. His eyes were the color of crimson and his skin was slightly pale. He wore a complete set finery as elaborate as the Jarlessa in front of him with a orcish blade belted at his side.

'You have heard of me?' the blood drinker said with a small smile on his face. Sharp canines poked out of the corner of his lips as he grinned.

'Read about you actually,' Razahir said. ' _Immortal Blood_ was quite the tale and I always wondered what became of the vampire hunter. I see you're still alive, vampire.'

His words brought no reaction from those in the chamber and the Jarlessa let out a crackle. 'We all have our secrets, Harbinger. If what our reports say, the Companions have their own, no?'

'Werewolves,' Movarth stated, tilting his head slightly at the Jarlessa. 'Those that carry the blood of the wolf. Although…' he sniffed the air once again. 'Theirs is more potent than the other rabble that I have come across; Hircine must favor them greatly.'

Aela spoke at his side: 'What do you know of the moon-born, monster.'

Movarth chuckled softly, arching an eyebrow in her direction. 'You have not read the book I take it? I have been walking among mortals since the Second Era, girl. You really think I would not know of lycanthropes? I have had all the time in the world to study every little thing about were-creatures in all of Tamriel.'

'He speaks the truth,' Idgrod spoke up, her head resting on her palm. 'I have confirmed everything that he has spoken of and my vision grants me the untold truth of the matter.'

Aela frowned deeply, crossing her arms over her chest. Razahir shook his head slowly. Aela had guarded the secrets of the Companions for ages from those in Whiterun. She would be understandably annoyed for her efforts of secrecy had been for naught by a vampire of all things.

'Jarl Balgruuf said you had a supernatural problem?' The Harbinger asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Movarth. 'However, now that I am here, I can see you have a vampire infestation.'

The vampire and the jarlessa chuckled. 'Funny that you should say that. We have had an influx of vampires here, but it's not Movarth's coven. These one's are outsiders. They do not belong here.'

Movarth nodded. 'They're part of the Volkihar coven. Met a few of them on my own travels; they're one of the strongest and oldest clans in Skyrim and their led by a man named Harkon.' The vampire frowned thoughtfully. 'Insane bunch, they are, but they have been sniffing around. One of my own managed to capture one of them and interrogated him. When we broke him, he spoke of something going on at the Hall of Vigilant; they're searching for something in the mountains there.'

'Strange, how does this involve you?' Razahir questioned.

The lord of Morthal answered instead. 'Morthal likes to keep its secrets, Harbinger. Just like Whiterun we have an alliance with people that would be shunned by mortals and we would like to keep it that way, especially with the way Skyrim is right now. People are choosing their sides and most flock to Ulfric's banner despite the presence of the Imperial garrison. The vampires have helped us greatly by keeping out undesirables and they have kept us safe, it's about time we returned the favor.'

'Are these vampires that much of a threat?' Aela asked.

'Yes,' Movarth replied, looking past them, a frown on his chiropteran features. 'I sat in one of their count meetings once. They spoke of a prophecy… a way to end the 'Tyranny of the Sun' and as nice as that sounds, they did not think of the ramifications of their actions. Imagine a world without the sun.'

A look of horror fell across Aela's and Razahir's face.

'Yes, you can see it, can't you? Chaos would follow and the world would be torn apart. Vampires would be hunted to extinction while the people in Tamriel would devolve into chaos without the light of the sun. Life would end as we know it. Food would become scarce and all life would end on Nirn.'

'They must be stopped.' Razahir said firmly.

'They must,' the vampire confirmed. 'As much as I dislike the sun and what it does to my skin, it is needed in the long term.'

'So, do we have your support, Harbinger?' the steward questioned.

'Yes, you do.' Razahir confirmed. 'We will go to the Hall of the Vigilant now and hopefully, by the time we arrive there, the vampires have not begun their assault.'

'The journey there will take a few days, do you need a horse? It would cut down the time by a day or two if need be.'

Razahir chuckled. 'As much as we appreciate the offer, no. They will need rest and we will not. Our own method of travel will get us there faster than on horseback. We will return after we have finished this little quest. Hopefully, the world will be down one power hungry maniac when we return.'

'Thank you; perhaps when you return, we can discuss the terms of an alliance between Morthal and Whiterun.' The lady of Morthal offered, a smile appearing on her crone-like face.

'That's very kind of you, milady.' The Harbinger replied with a returning smile. He inclined his head at the vampire and turned away his cape trailing around him. Aela followed his lead, walking with him until they exited the hall.

On the porch, they stared into the misty surroundings. 'This is all so strange, love.' Aela commented, a frown on her face. 'We're thinking about allying with vampires of all things, and trying to stop a power hungry group once again.'

Razahir remained silent, staring down the main street. 'You're correct, and I have a feeling, it's all going to get stranger. The last time we dealt with something like this, we had to slay werewolf hunters and now its vampires? This... Harkon sounds like he'll be a lot worse than the Silver Hand. Matters that involve the Daedra usually are.' He ran his thumb across the wooden frame of the porch, thoughtfully.' Let us hurry. Who knows what these vampires are capable of? We'll change when we get a league away from the city and go the rest of the way.'


	13. Journey to the Throat of the World

_Journey to the Throat of the World_

Elaninde Caemoth patted her face, hoping to try and wake herself up. The Altmer mage sighed to herself as the last traces of sleep refused to disappear and she raised her index and middle fingers. Lightning pulsed briefly at the tips of her fingers and she pressed them into her shoulders. The resulting shock awakened her fully and the mage sighed.

Magic did have its uses. It could be used in a manner of ways and the High Elves were known for employing magic to help with their everyday lives. As those thoughts came to her mind, she frowned, sighing.

 _I miss home_ , she thought, running her hands through her dark hair. She glanced around the room, noticing everything in the room she had rented from the _Bannered Mare_ , from the plain walls to the rather… simple constructed work of its walls. _In Alinor, this would be rather barbaric_ , she found herself thinking. She pressed her index and middle fingers against her forehead, pushing into the skin and shook her head.

 _You're not in Alinor anymore_. She thought as she stared at the small broken shard of reflective glass that made up the mirror of her room. She stared at her face; golden skinned with blond hair and amber colored eyes. Her skin was unblemished, perfect and healthy. She looked young by most races standards, but that hid the fact that she was almost over three hundred years old. Very old for an Altmer, if the books were correct.

She snorted. Books made by others were always filled with holes in their tales due to the writers not having the best point of view on certain matters. She shook her head, a small smile appearing on her lips.

A knock on the door drew her attention away from the mirror. She crossed the room in a few strides and opened the door. A woman stood on the other side, her face hidden beneath a cloak.

'They're preparing as we speak. They should be on the road within an hour.'

'Thank you,' she waved her hand backwards and a small pouch flew from her nightstand and into her hand. She reached inside and pulled out a golden sovereign, and placed it into the woman's hand. The coin disappeared into the folds of her cloak. She inclined her head and disappeared down the hallway. Elaninde closed her door with a roll of her eyes.

This all felt way to cloak and dagger. She was used to secrecy and the like, but it still annoyed her when she had to employ such actions. She could not wait to return to the college and stay there for the rest of the year, hopefully. She groaned out loud as the thought made itself known and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

'I just jinxed myself, I know it,' she muttered to the empty room. Especially with dragons flying around now, she thought, moving to her trunk at the end of the queen-sized bed. She opened it with a thought and began digging around inside.

'Let's see, armor and robes will be nice to wear,' she mused out loud as she dug around inside. 'And if there's trouble on the road – which there will be – I think I'll have to bring _Dauntless_ into battle once again.' She pulled out a gilded set of elven armor and tribunal robes along with a beautifully crafted blade.

She tossed her night clothes on the bed and replaced them with simple tunic and worn trousers. She pulled the armor on afterwards and sighed in pleasure as her connection with Aetherius grew and magicka flooded inside of her veins. The robes she placed over her outfit made her magic sing inside of her and she strapped the thin, pale blade on to her belt, feeling her magic connect to the weapon once more.

She was ready to follow the Jarl's daughter and Dragonborn to the Throat of the World.

* * *

Elaninde marched up the path, her eyes watching the road carefully. Occasionally, she would glance behind her, making sure the road was still empty before she continued. The mage had been on the road for the past two days, following the clues that lead left on the side of the road.

Lydia was certainly trying rather hard to make sure that Elaninde knew just where they were heading to. Not that she needed it in the first place. The Throat of the World was rather hard to miss and she had made the journey up the mountain once before.

The fortress-monastery that the Greybeards had carved for themselves was impressive. Unfortunately, she had never been allowed inside since she did not want to follow the Way of the Voice itself. It was tranquil for her and turning into a monk was unknown to her. Perhaps if she had a midlife crisis?

She snorted at that.

As she headed further up the road, and crested a hill, she stared down at the road in curiosity. She could see Lydia and Valeka up ahead. The pair were at the base of the small outcropping that held a Standing Stone, the Ritual Stone. She smiled at that, recalling that the stone granted those who touched it the power to resurrect the dead around them. They only lasted for a bit, but put that spell to use in the middle of a graveyard, or the middle of a battlefield and watch the havoc that came after.

A bright flare of light from above the stone made her squint her eyes and the faint laughter catch in her throat.

A moment later, a faint magical shockwave over ran her. With all the enchantments on her person and being an Altmer, she was sensitive to anything of magical nature and curiously felt the residue of summoning magic. When she regained her sight, her eyes immediately went to the bottom of the outcropping, searching for the Dragonborn and the Jarl's daughter.

Luckily, she managed to find the disoriented pair. Lydia, however, was already tying her horse to a nearby tree and making her way up the path to the stone. Valeka repeated her actions and was following her, weapons already unsheathed and ready.

She sighed; freed _Dauntless_ from its scabbard and preparing a spell in her free hand. Then she marched her way down the path, heading towards the path behind the outcropping and towards the standing stone. As she approached, she felt another pulse of magic – the same summoning one – and felt the dirt beneath her crack.

Undead bodies began to crawl from beneath the ground.

Elaninde raised her free hand, hacking down at one of the undead that grew near her feet. The blue soulless eyes flickered and died and a whip of fire appeared in her hand. She flicked it in the direction of a pack of the undead monsters and watched as they all disappeared into piles of ash. She smiled, her amber eyes glowing as she flicked wrist once more and another of the monsters went up in fire.

More of the undead came from the ground and she tossed a fireball into the middle of the path, quickly moving past the flames and towards the top of the outcropping. She needed to reach the Dragonborn and Lydia before they were overwhelmed by these legions of undead.

She reached the top of the outcropping and the Standing Stone after clearing it out with a few blasts of her fire balls. Lydia and Valeka were near the Stone, battling a horde of skeletons and robed figures. The pair were fighting back to back, their attacks coordinated and appearing like a savage dance between the pair. Lydia was both offense and defense, her sword and shield protecting and hacking while Valeka was pure offense, her mace and axe making quick work of the living and undead flesh.

Elaninde was impressed; not many warriors could coordinate their attacks and movements together, but the Dragonborn and the Jarl's daughter did it well enough. She stared curiously at the robed figures that were attacking them, noticing that they wore dark robes with the sigil of a dragon on them. A few carried a small, curved dagger; a ritual kris if she was not mistaken. That made her narrow her eyes; she had not heard of any sort of cults established recently.

Absentminded, she tossed a fireball behind her, hearing the roar of flames and the clattering of bones and the heat of fire trailing across her robes. The fire whip reappeared in her hand and she swung it in a well-controlled downward arc. The path to the Stone cleared with the screams of burning cultists, clattering bones, and the reek of undead flesh burning. Before she could step forward and help the pair, a nearby robed cultist raised their hand to the stone and another pulse of magic broke out.

She narrowed her eyes and faced the necromancer instead of heading towards the fighting pairs aid. The pair were handling themselves easily enough and if she got in their way, she may just distract them both from their battle coordination. She approached the necromancer, flicking her fingertips together, lighting dancing along the tips.

'You have interrupted something that does not involve you, elf.' A male voice snarled. The necromancer raised his hand, lightning gathering in his palm.

'Cults always catch my attention. Especially ones that I do not know of,' she replied. 'Now what are you planning on doing with this Stone?'

'I would explain myself, but it would be pointless to explain to someone who will soon be dead!' he spat, sending out a cone of lighting. She countered with her own and the lightning bolts clashed in the middle. The two magical spells connected, beams of pure electricity magicka connecting to each other. Elaninde smiled. She had not had a magical duel in ages!

Magicka duels had been a recent sport added to the college. Made by destruction based mages when a few spells had clashed in the attempt and they locked together, resulting in one mage trying to overpower the other. It was usually a show of strength for those who wanted to show whose destruction magic was stronger. Sadly, not many other mages had the chance to practice such spell work, since other spells just refused to work. But if one used the three most basic elemental spells: fire, ice and lighting, the results were… fun and were coined of the term magical duels.

The necromancer she was going against now, was rather powerful she had to admit. As their magic clashed; each one pushed against the other, trying to overwhelm the others magic. She had gone against the Arch-Mage Savos Aren and that had only lasted a few heartbeats, with Savos easily overwhelming her own spell and locking her into a shell of ice that had taken _forever_ to defrost! But this mage was no archmagister. She knew she could win this one.

She focused, concentrating on pushing back and drawing a bit more on her magicka. Her magic answered by becoming brighter and expanded slightly to reinforce the beam of the spell and pushed the mages back. The necromancer stumbled, and she could see his eyes widening from the inside of his hood. A desperate gleam entered his eyes and suddenly, his magicka was pushing her back, growing larger and swiftly regaining the ground that it had lost with her own and more. Elaninde grunted as the magical force pushed her, seeking to dominate and over whelm hers, a small grimace passing over her lips.

That cheater! She thought with scorn. He was using brute force now! Certain mages had it in them to make their spells stronger at the cost of draining their magicka pool at a faster rate, but the added benefits were that their magic was stronger and much more potent for as long as they could utilize it before it ran out. They overloaded the spell at the cost of almost draining themselves dry of their magic. It worked with those who had a large pool of magic like elves, but those with a lesser arcane pool were worse off. Luckily, for her, she had both.

She sheathed her blade one handed, a nasty smile appearing on her face as she added that hand to the spell, this one ice. Her lighting flickered, becoming a storm of fire and lightning. The added magic swiftly conquered the necromancers, dominating it and pushing the man backwards. And then, she added her full power to it, overloading her spell. The undead conjurer stood no chance against her full might.

The spell struck him full on and the man's scream carried across the platform. The snake like tendrils of lighting wrapped around the man, lifting him into the air. She kept him hover there for just a moment and then waved her fire covered palm around in a circular motion and watched as he was engulfed in flames, his screams cut short. When the fire disappeared, blackened bones fell to the ground with a clatter.

She shook her head once and turned away from the body as more clacking surrounded her. The skeletons broke apart with the death of their master and ending of his spell. Only a few stood, but they were quickly broken apart as well.

Lydia and Valeka were just finishing the last of the cultists, cutting them down with their blades before they faced her. Lydia stared at her, impressed with her display while Valeka gave her a neutral glance instead. She gave a mental sigh.

'Impressive, mage,' commented Lydia, staring at the remains of the necromancer. 'Can most at the College do that?'

'Only the masters of their trade.' She replied. 'You should see when most of them are working certain spells together, or those who have just focus on one discipline. There spells could probably shake the very foundations of Nirn.'

'Like the Great Collapse?' asked Lydia, sheathing her sword and placing her shield on her back. She made her way towards one of the robed cultists and crouched down beside them.

She snorted. 'No one knows what caused that. It could be because of the mages, or it could be because of the eruption of the Red Mountain.' She had heard the argument from both sides enough times at the College and from the citizens that were from the ruined city. 'If people weren't so distrustful of each other, I would just restore the blasted city to the way it used to be, but we all can't have what we want.' She peered down at the cultist as well, looking at the robes. The dragon on the back of the robe and the kris in her hand. She crouched down next to the body with Lydia, still looking at it.

Lydia picked up the kris, turning it over in her hand, an unfamiliar look on her face.

Elaninde noticed the look. 'You recognize it?'

'Kind of, I remember seeing it from somewhere, but I cannot recall where.' Lydia continued to stare at it intently.

'How about the sigil?' Elaninde asked, pushing the body over. The back of the robe stared back at them and she frowned as well. 'I recognize it, but for the life of me I cannot recall where from.'

'Same here,' replied Lydia.

'Hand that over,' the Altmer requested, her hand open. Lydia gave her the ritual knife and Elaninde cut out the back of the robe. 'I can give this to Urag later. He should be able to decipher what exactly this is.' She glanced over the knife as well and put it in the folds of her robe. 'I'll take this too, perhaps they're connected?'

Lydia, however, shook her head slowly. 'It would take weeks to get to the College. Why not just go to the Throat of the World? I am sure the Greybeards would have enough knowledge about what all this is.'

'True, but would I be welcomed?' she said raising her voice slightly, staring over Lydia's pauldron and at Valeka. The Nord Dragonborn had crossed her arms over her chest and was staring at them silently. A frown crossed over the amnestic woman's face. Her vivid blue eyes stared at her and she shivered slightly. Those eyes were much colder than when they first met. The power to change the world was in those eyes and Elaninde had a feeling the power in those eyes could crush her.

Lydia stood fully, making her way towards Valeka and pulled her aside, having a whispered conversation with her. Elaninde raised a brow in amusement and surprise. That was strange. She wondered just how close the pair had gotten in such a short amount of time. Then again, she should not be surprised. In the short time that she had known of her, the woman had a heart of fire and would gladly let her point be known. It took a warrior's courage – and perhaps – a bit of their foolishness to be that bold.

The conversation went on for a few minutes and Elaninde decided to look over the bodies of the cultists, collecting more of the robes and the strange daggers. She stood when Lydia let out a pointed cough.

The pair stood near the Stone; Lydia with her hands on her hips and Valeka with her hands over her chest. Valeka was the one who spoke:

'You can join us, but do not think this is an invitation,' said Valeka, glancing in Lydia's direction. 'You will not stand nearby me and Lydia will always stand between us. Anything else, I will come up with later,' she turned on her heel and walked back down the path. Elaninde and Lydia watched her depart, a frown on the noble's face.

Elaninde sighed.

'I cannot help but wonder why the road is so empty,' voiced Lydia as they walked along the path.

Elaninde furrowed her brow at that. What Lydia said was true now that she thought of it. For the past few days, as they traveled along the road, it had been empty. No other travelers had made their way by them. Even with the civil war that had encompassed the providence, one would think this path would be busy with people either going to Windhelm to join the Rebellion, or those going away to seek refuge away from the war in a neutral place like Whiterun.

'Now that you mention that,' the High Elf mused, displeasure in her tone. 'I noticed that you are correct. Why do I have the feeling we will find out about this soon?'

Lydia shrugged her shoulders.

* * *

Most of the day passed by in relative silence, the three women lost in their own thoughts, or musing silently to themselves. Elaninde noticed that Valeka kept her gave firmly away from her and instead was looking around at their beautiful surroundings.

As they traveled in the valley that lead to the Valtheim Towers, they encountered another problem. It was Lydia who noticed it first.

'Hold,' she stated firmly.

Elaninde and Valeka came to an immediate stop, looking at the noble. She pointed an armored digit at the tower itself and frowned. 'Movement along the top of the towers.'

'That's good. Last time I came through here, your father had established a barracks there.' Elaninde said, making her way down the path. Lydia trotted her horse in front of her, shaking her head.

'We lost word from the towers almost a week after the after the Greybeards called the Dragonborn. Father did not have enough men to send in reinforcements and there were a few whispers among the guards that a large horde of bandits was nearby.'

'Oh,' Elaninde said intelligently before she sighed. 'Let me guess, we will have the pleasure of the clean-up duty?'

Lydia nodded. 'If they're raiders, they will not hesitate to slay us and I have been thinking that perhaps the reason we have not seen so many people on the road is because of them.'

'That's fair.' Valeka spoke up, her mare stepping around Lydia's and moving deeper into the valley. 'Well then, let's not give them time to prepare, eh? They've probably already seen us from their tower, and if we flee, they may send a few after us and I refuse to let a few bandits stop us from getting to the Throat of the World.' The woman slid off the back of her horse a bit further up the road and tied it to a nearby tree. She freed her steel mace from the loop on her belt and swung it back and forth through the air.

'I'll go first.' Lydia said, already off her own horse and holding her sword and shield in front of her. 'Stay behind me.'

'Allow me,' Elaninde insisted as she walked down the worn path, ahead of both Lydia and Valeka. Briefly, she considered drawing _Dauntless_ , but decided against it. She would need both hands free to cast the spells she would need to defeat these raiders. She stared up towards the large bridge that spanned above the river and noticed a few of the raiders moving among the old grey walkway.

Her left hand lit up with lightning and she threw a bolt up at the people there. The bolt caught one in the shoulder, crippling the man and sending him into convulsions. The bolt continued its path, jumping from bandit to bandit and sending a few reeling and others into convulsions. A few fell off the bridge and crashed into the water where they were swiftly swept away by the current.

A group of the raiders appeared at the base of the tower, hearing the screams of the fallen raiders, or alerted by the travelers that were coming toward the towers. Elaninde placed her hands together and molten fire appeared in her hands. She shaped it into a glowing ball of fire, the flames whirling around inside of the rapidly expanding fireball. She threw her hands forward, directing them to the center of the group.

The explosion rippled among the raiders, setting them aflame and sending them running around screaming. A few tried to escape into the nearby stream and others tried to roll around on the floor, but both ended up eaten alive by the hungry flames.

Elaninde's lip curled as the smell of roasted flesh and burning fabrics filled her nostrils. She ignored the smell and raised her hand at the heavy, reinforced steel door. A blast of fire erupted from her hand and sent the door rocking on its hinges. She narrowed her eyes at the door and raised both hands once again and sent a ball of fire at the door. It blew off its hinges and took some of the framework with it, sending the stone and masonry crashing along the interior of the stone floor with the remains of the door.

She paused in front of the ruined doorway, looking at the remains of her spell. She appreciated the spells she cast and chuckled as she felt a small drain on her magic. 'Before we go inside, allow me to cast a few spells of protection on each of us.'

Valeka looked rather alarmed at the prospect and she winced. 'I know I promised that I would not, but I had forgotten about just what traveling with others entailed. I would not want to cast a spell and have you die from the backlash of the spell.'

Valeka looked troubled at that before she shook herself and firmed herself, tightening her hand on her mace.

'If you try anything…' she warned.

'I will not,' she exclaimed firmly. Valeka's lip twisted before she straightened and nodded her head. Elaninde cast her cocktail of protection and warding spells on the Dragonborn watching as the woman glowed briefly. The woman frowned as her spells washed over her and Elaninde smiled. 'It various spells of resistance against spells, a few to supplement your armor, and one to absorb spells,' she explained. She cast the same plethora of spells on Lydia, as well, before she stepped through the threshold of the door.

 _Dauntless_ was freed to ward off the savage blows of a hulking orc that was swinging his scimitar at her. Finely crafted elven steel met brutal orcish steel in a flurry of parries and blocks. She raised her free hand, a lightning bolt flying from her palm. The orc was blasted backwards, slamming into the stone stairs and cracking the rock. She stabbed her blade into the orc's bare chest to make sure he was down and continued up the stairs.

When she reached the landing, she waited for her companions to reach her before she continued and stepped outside of the tower. A gentle wind blew across her face, making her robes flap this way and that and she dipped her head slightly, feeling the breeze on her cheeks and moved further up the tower.

The next landing was empty, and was right where the bridge connected to the other end of the tower. The old and worn stone was cracked in places and a few bodies were slumped over from the remnant of her earlier spell. Lydia strolled by her and disappeared into the nearby room. Valeka looked like she wanted to follow, but instead stood nearby her, looking at the bodies from the remnants of her spell.

'Bandits… I've always hated them.' She commented, looking down at the raider. 'Skyrim seems to be infested with them lately, however. All this nasty business with the war and all.' She pushed the lifeless body off the bridge with the toe of her armored foot. She watched the body crash into the water and disappeared.

'They're the bane of everyone in all of the Nine Holds,' Lydia said as she rejoined them on the landing. 'Nice spell work, by the way, the only one who I have seen use magic is Irileth, but even she never cast spells like that.'

'It helps when you have studied at various colleges and universities over the years,' Elaninde commented. 'Irileth is hardly old enough to consider studying the various branches of magic that I have.'

'You sound rather old,' Valeka commented. Elaninde smirked as she detected the snide of her remark.

'That's because I am.' She responded with a shrug of her shoulders. 'But you should never ask a woman her own age and I cannot tell because we have trouble.' She pointed out the mass of bandits that had gathered at the other end of the bridge. The brigandine's were all carry various bloodstained weapons and armor, the mass of the gathered men and women easily able to overcome all of them.

'That's a lot more than the reports said,' Lydia commented. 'It's like they were going to try and besiege Whiterun.'

'They could try, but they would fail.' Elaninde commented. 'Allow me to deal with them.' She said as the bandits began to cross the bridge towards them.

Before she could, however, Valeka stepped in front of her, a determined look on her face.

'Allow me,' she said firmly.

Elaninde shared a look with Lydia. The noble shook her head minutely and she nodded. Despite the confidence in the Dragonborn, Elaninde made sure to start muttering the beginning of a lightning storm spell.

Valeka maneuvered herself into the center of the bridge, standing firm in center of the walkway. As the on-rushing bandits approached, she inhaled deeply:

'FUS!' the world around them trembled as the power of her Voice echoed from the woman's maw. Elaninde almost lost her focus for the spell, feeling the bridge beneath her trembled and the sound of stone cracking briefly echoed through her ears. Luckily, the bridge held and she marveled at the construction that had gone into this walkway.

Elaninde watched as the bandits were struck full on with the young woman's Voice. The Shout had an almost intangible energy to it and she noticed that it had a bluish aura surrounding it. The Shout smashed into the marauders, sending them scattering them aside violently. Most were thrown off the bridge and screamed to their deaths while others were knocked over and crushed beneath each other.

Elaninde unleashed her lightning storm among the bandits, her hands cupped in front of her. The beam of magical lightning struck the last of the raiders, burning through their clothes and bodies like nothing. The bandits moaned pitifully as they were enveloped by her cast spell and soon the only thing left of them was bits of their skeleton and ash. She canceled her spell, feeling her large supply of magicka reserves already replenishing.

'You two certainly fight well.' Lydia muttered, her voice sullen. Elaninde turned towards the woman, noticing that her blade was lowered at her side. She looked rather despondent.

'Do not worry, Lydia,' Elaninde said, clasping a hand on her shoulder. 'You will be able to bloody your blade when we have to fight more enemies along the road.'

Lydia inclined her head once, before she marched forward and across the bridge. 'First we should check the rest of these towers for any other remnants of these bandits. Father would like it if we cleared them all out and made this secured.'

'Sounds like the men would desert once again.' Elaninde said, running her fingers over her gilded shoulder guard.

Lydia glared in her direction. 'Shut up and help me search this place.'

* * *

Elaninde watched the conjured bird departed with the letter in its claws to send word to Balgruuf about the state of the Valtheim Towers and how they were cleared again. They had found nothing inside the tower except for the mutilated corpses of the unfortunate travelers who were passing through and were assaulted by the raiders. They had set a funeral fire at the base of the tower and left the recovered goods in a secured chest in the tower. It was the least they could do for the travelers who lost their lives to the bloodthirsty marauders.

They continued their journey, speaking to each other on their quest to the Throat of the World. Elaninde was content. The looks from Valeka had lessened and occasionally the young woman would ask her questions on her magic and the spells she could cast.

'I have a master study of each school of magic,' said Elaninde as they surrounded the campfire on the second night they had left the towers behind. She took a bite out of her apple, examining the residue teeth marks and picking out some of the apple between her teeth with her tongue. 'Alteration and Destruction are my favorite spells to learn, but Restoration certainly helps out in a pinch.'

'Master level?' Lydia exclaimed. 'That would take ages for someone to learn.'

'Two-hundred and fifty years to be exact.' She had responded with, a sly grin on her face. 'A few of the spells have been outlawed, of course, but one cannot steal the knowledge from another mage and last I heard; telepathy was only a skill that was developed between a master conjurer and their student.'

'How old are you exactly?' the last occupant of the campfire asked.

'Almost six hundred years old, give or take a few years.' She answered. The god smacked look on both of their faces had sent her laughing long into the night.

They spent a night in the fortress city of Amol. The city stood right at the south-western border between Whiterun and Eastmarch. Elaninde kept her hood up the entire time they were in the Stormcloak controlled city fortress. It had been easy to persuade the guard to let them inside, even with her presence in the area. A few illusion spells made sure the guards would be none the wiser with a Altmer in their presence and they left early in the morning before the sun was rising.

The rest of the way to Ivarstead took them three days and they arrived at the small town by midday on Turdas, the 28th of Hearthfire.

 _This is such a small town_ , she thought. Elaninde stood on the stone bridge with Lydia and Valeka at her sides. The stone bridge lead to the main road which was flanked on both sides by old wooden buildings. A general goods store and a well-built inn sat on opposite sides of each other and even from here, Elaninde noticed that they were rather busy. People milled among the street while guardsmen patrolled the streets and a few stood near the entrance way to buildings, carrying large steel shields with the crossed dagger heraldry displayed proudly and heavy halberds.

'Greetings, travelers!' a wizened voice spoke up as they stepped off the bridge and onto the main road. A powerfully built Nord in the beginning stages of old age waved in their direction. He wore a simple farmers outfit complete with boots and a small dagger rested against his thigh. 'Here to make the journey of Seven thousand steps?'

'Yes,' Valeka confirmed. Elaninde noticed that her eyes were focused on the mountain and not the man. Strange, she tilted her head curiously at such a display. 'The Greybeards stay in High Hrothgar, correct?'

'Aye,' the man nodded. 'I'm Klimmek, and I, usually take the journey every now and then to bring them supplies, but I've been getting old. Probably gonna make one more journey up there and then I'm done.' A small frown passed over his face.

'We can take it for you,' Lydia said. The aging man's face immediately brightened. Elaninde covered her mouth with her gauntleted hand, smiling. _Clever, old man, very clever_ , she thought.

'Do you happen to know where we can tuck our heads in for the night?' Elaninde asked, looking up to the mountain. 'I would say we should make the journey now, but I have a feeling the mountain would not be so safe at night?'

Klimmek flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Yeah, that's true. The dire ice wolves hunt at that time and the occasional troll as well.' He suddenly clapped his hands. 'But I'm sure all of that won't be bad for you! I'll meet you here tomorrow, so you can deliver the rations to them!' The old man darted off quickly, disappearing down the street.

Lydia grumbled beneath her breath. 'He could have at least shown us the way to the tavern.'

Elaninde chuckled. 'As if it would be hard for a Nord to find an inn!' She made her way down the main road, ignoring the distrustful looks that the locals were giving her. She knew it was because of her gilded armor. The finely crafted moonstone was one of the first signs of an armored Thalmor agent and she was honestly surprised that Klimmek had not shown such a reaction to it.

The towns people were largely different. Most turned their heads away from her in fear and anger, while others muttered among themselves. Lydia and Valeka stayed nearby her as she marched her way to the inn and she threw the door open, quickly walking inside.

The occupants of _Vilemyr Inn_ came to an immediate hush, the noise level dying down quickly. Elaninde raised a brow beneath her helm, staring at the hostile looks in front of her. 'It is rude to stare, you know,' she stated, her voice sharp with the sound of command. 'Back to your merry making, I am not some Thalmor Justiciar.' A few turned away, grumbling among themselves, but others continued to stare. Elaninde sighed and marched to the innkeeper, still ignoring everyone around her.

'My friends and I would like a few rooms for the night,' said Elaninde, dropping a large sack of coin in front of the innkeeper. The man's eyes widened in surprise at such a large amount of currency. Curiously, he reached over and opened it, staring down into the contents of the bag. She leaned forward with a smile on her face. 'Also buy a round for everyone here as well. That should cover it?'

The innkeeper nodded – astonished – before he put aside the bag and began to prepare to serve the occupants of the inn with the help of a few barmaids. He dropped a set of keys in front of her, pointing out that their rooms were next to each other, and she swept the rusty keys off the counter and faced her traveling companions.

'I assume that we do not want to share rooms with each other, so I decided to get us separate rooms instead,' said Elaninde, handing two separate keys to each of them. 'If you'll excuse me, I am going to change out of these clothes and then have a bite to eat before bed. You're welcomed to join me.' Elaninde added, before she turned on her heel and made her way to her own door, after explaining to the pair where their rooms were.


	14. Dawnguard

Dawnguard

They arrived at the Hall of the Vigilants in the middle of a battle.

Two forces were committed against each other and fought among themselves in the massive courtyard leading up to the Hall of the Vigilant.

Lamellar armored warriors – with emblems of Magnus on their uniforms – fought among warriors wearing priestly robes and plate mail. They were managing to hold their ground against leather clad warriors that held a pool of crimson magic in their right hands. The pale skin and frozen features gave away to what they were. Vampires.

'Looks like they decided to attack early,' Razahir commented. He and Aela stood at the edge of the tree line, watching as the battle played out. The Harbinger of the Companions scented the air, tasting the blood and sweat through the air and listened to the sounds of metal clashing against metal and the whispers through the air from spells and magic alike. It sounded like home to him.

'Should we just sit here and watch? Or actually join the fight?' Aela commented. The Huntress had her glass longsword in hand and buckler ready in her hand. Already, she was tense and her muscles were coiled, and she, ready to fight.

'Join,' the giant rumbled, watching as the vampires began to push the Dawnguard and Vigilants back. He freed Terminus from its sheath along his belt and the blade crackled to life. 'Kill them to the man, love. Hopefully, someone is left alive at the end of all this.'

The giant strolled out of the tree line silently, his large strides easily carrying him across the snow-covered ground. He could hear Aela moving at his side with her own silent steps and smiled behind the faceplate of his great helm. His blood began to rise and adrenaline shot through him and by the time he reached the first vampire, his blood was high.

The first vampire did not even realize what cut him down. Terminus slashed a crackling arc of lighting down the monsters back, almost separating the fiend's torso. He stabbed the next bloodsucker in the heart, lifting him up and throwing him bodily off his blade. The last one of this group hissed and jumped at him. His armored fist stopped the vampire's path quickly, shattering teeth and bone as the monster's head thrust backwards, blood squirting.

Razahir watched as Aela launched herself into her own group of the vampire's admiring the way, she moved this way and that among the foes. Her strikes were quick and precise, the fiery haired huntress using her agile figure and supernatural abilities to slay the vampires. Her shield warded off the rest of the attackers blows and counter attacks, the small shield used well in her hands. Her longsword separated the final vampires head from its shoulders, and she ran a hand through her hair, her breath misting in front of her.

She raised a questioning brow in his direction and Razahir raised his sword to her. She turned with a nod and made her way to the next batch of foes.

The Harbinger of the Companions waded across the courtyard like a god of war. The vampires turned to face the demi-god of battle, focusing their attention on this new threat.

Razahir raised Terminus to meet the vampire as his right hand was covered in flames. With a quick thought, he shaped a fireball and threw over the top of the first approaching vampire's head. The resulting shockwave sent the first vampire falling onto Terminus' blade and sent him into seizures. Once his blade was free, he was on the next vampire, his blade slicing her in half at the waist. His blade clashed against the steel of another and he smirked as he felt the steel hold.

He did not bother to start speaking, instead he pulled back his blade slightly and met the vampire in another dance of blade work. Their weapons clashed as they fought among each other, each of them moving with supernatural speed against one another. Their blows with quick and precise and Razahir had to admit that this vampire was good. Not the best, but still good. Therefore, he was surprised when the blade managed to slip past him and slice a path along his breastplate.

He stepped back in surprise, glancing down at the undamaged piece of his armor. He inclined his head in respect at the vampire and squeezed his shoulders together before he breathed out a hot cloud of air. His hand curled around the golden hilt of his sword and he stepped forward once again to meet his foe. The blow that the vampire blocked was thunderous, echoing through the courtyard. The vampire's red eyes widened in surprise and slight fear. Razahir could taste the undead fear and unleashed a devastating series of blows against the monster. The monster's blade held against his unrelenting assault and once they clashed once again, Razahir brought his blade along the blade of the other, the metal shrieking as they ground against each other. With a flick of his wrist, the vampire let out a scream of pain as his hands were separated from his body.

Razahir kicked the man full in the teeth, snapping its head back with an audible snap. The Harbinger launched himself at the last batch of monsters with a bit of supernatural speed. His crackling blade slashed and cut among the monsters and soon enough, Aela was at his side, each of them carving through the bloodsuckers.

And the others joined them. It was slow at first, a few scattered Vigilants and Dawnguard soldiers, fighting at their sides. Then a large Redguard in lamellar armor and a woman in robes were at his and Aela's side. The Redguard held a massive warhammer in his hands that gave off an interesting light, while the Breton carried a mace that made his skin stand on end. The lycanthrope assessed his new allies silently.

The Redguard was powerfully built, his form straining against the confines of his armor. The man's armor gave off no magical signature, but his sharp eye took in the fact that it was heavily reinforced in certain places. He had a hard, unforgiving face lined with age. He had a large, impressive looking beard while the hair on the top of his head was close-cropped and short.

His companion had the short stature of a Breton. The robes she wore gave off a magical aura and Razahir tilted his head as he felt the restoration spells woven into the fabric. Strong, but whoever used that work was rather unskilled in enchanting, or they had used a small soul gem for the process. Her arms and feet were covered in heavy steel plate armor and he noticed an Amulet of Stendarr hanging from her neck. Short hair, framed a stern face and Razahir could see the conviction and belief in her eyes.

Good allies, especially with the way they handled their weapons, but Razahir wondered how quick they would turn their weapons on them if they were given a chance.

They would find out soon enough.

They finished off the last group of vampires and he kept a firm hand on the hilt of his sword as he stared at the Redguard and Breton in front of him. At his side, Aela had lowered her blade, but elected to not sheath it. The remaining Dawnguard and Vigilant soldiers surrounded them and Razahir noted that they too kept their steel drawn. Smart.

'The Harbinger of the Companions and the Huntress?' The Breton spoke up, after looking them over. Her sharp eyes watched them like a hawk. 'What brings you all the way out here?'

'Jarlessa's business,' Razahir stated, after a moment of thought. He had thought of hiding whatever they were doing, but decided against it. 'She spoke with us about some sort of vampire threat and said they were heading over here. We're here to help you put a stop to it.'

The Redguard had a look of relief on his face and his harsh features softened. 'I have not heard such good news in quite some time. We're a secret order and we've been waging this shadow war against the monsters for a few months now and ours numbers are dropping. The last few leeches we came across were captured and interrogated and now they seem to be massing here for some reason, or the other.'

Razahir surveyed the battleground. 'Probably searching for something,' He glanced at one of the corpses by his armored feet. 'Was there anything hidden here, or are the Vigilants guarding something that we should know about?'

The Breton frowned at that, becoming wary. 'How did you know that?'

The werewolf shrugged his massive shoulders. 'I thought it would be obvious. It sounds all story book, but stories do have their own sort of truth to them. So, what is it that you are guarding?'

'Not sure,' the Breton answered, crossing her armored forearms over her breastplate. 'My predecessor died before she could explain what we were guarding. All we know, is that whatever it is, it's up in Dimhollow Crypt.'

'We should get there as soon as possible then before more of them arrive.' Aela said. The she-wolf glanced in his direction and then up at the mountains. 'These bloodsuckers are not going to stop, especially if they have an idea that this is where their quest ends.'

'She's right. The longer we stay here, the more time we give the vampires the chance to attack.' Isran said, hefting his huge hammer.

Now that they were closer, Razahir could see the fine craftsmanship that went into making the weapon. The shaft was made from ebony with a simple red binding around the haft. At the top and near the head was another red binding where one could grip the woman for a closer grip; the head of the hammer was Magus with its six points facing outwards while the back was a curved horn of silver. The face of the hammer held intricate lines and gave off a torch like glow.

'Agreed,' the Vigilant stated and raised her voice: 'Gather everything you can, vigils! We head to Dimhollow when everything is gathered.' During her speech, she faced the mountain, pointing the mace towards it.

Razahir was happy he wore his helmet. His teeth were bared into a snarl as he could feel the power that the mace gave off. It was obviously a weapon used to combat Daedric entities. He had come across a few of the weapons imbued with the powers of the Gods. The long-hafted mace was made entirely out of silver and the head of the mace was a devastating four-curved monstrosity topped with a small ruby gemstone.

Aela kept her gaze away from the weapon, no doubt affected by the enchantments from it. Razahir noticed that she gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, the metal creaking slightly in his ears. He placed his large hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. Aela reached up, touching the back of his armored gauntlet briefly.

Razahir pulled away and went after the Dawnguard soldiers and priests of Stendarr with a reassured Aela at his side.

* * *

Dimhollow was an old place.

Razahir could tell from the first moment he stepped into the cave. Ice and snow covered the interior of the place. The snows had not been disturbed in ages and was pure; not even treaded on by any living creature. His sharp eyes dug through every nook and cranny inside the cave and paused when they came across the ruins of an old tower… buried by stone.

 _I wonder what this used to be_?

The soldiers around him branched out and spread around the area, searching for anything. Isran and Keeper Carcette kept close to him and Aela. Razahir ignored the presence of _Pendulum_ the Keeper's personally forged mace. The Divine essence that the thing gave off reeked. He controlled the snarl that rose to his lips and tried to keep his face blank.

He could taste Aela's agitation and kept her close to him in case she managed to snap at leaders.

'How long has this place been here for?' the Redguard questioned.

The Keeper of the Vigil sighed. 'Ages; Our lore states that this place has been around since the First Era, sometime around the first century and beginning of the second. Apparently, some noble requested this place to be guarded and the Vigilants made a contract with them. Times were hard in those days, and the Vigils agreed and we have been here ever since.'

'Interesting,' Razahir commented and then her turned towards Isran. 'And your story?'

'My group calls themselves the Dawnguard. Vampire Hunters if you could not tell,' a grim smile appeared on the gruff Redguards face. 'We have been around for quite some time.' The gruff Redguard became thoughtful. 'Second Era was our official establishment and out lore said we guarded the Jarl's son after he got turned. Sadly, we were disbanded when the Jarl's son managed to escape and we had to kill the fiend and the original organization was disbanded.' A frown crossed the man's hard face. 'I reformed them years ago after I was kicked out of the Vigilants.'

'I told you your ways for combating the Daedric-spawn was too – 'Carcette began and Razahir ignored the pair. He had seen the look of outrage forming on Isran's face and immediately knew it was an old argument between the pair.

They argued for a small amount of time, speaking of their own ways when it came to running certain things in their respective guilds. Razahir frowned when he heard about Isran's ways with dealing with certain things. Brutal and unforgiving; good qualities to have when hunting, but bad when it got out of hand. The Harbinger hoped that they curved their enthusiasm when this matter was over and they disappeared back into the backdrop of Nirn. He would hate to put down this rabble, just how he and Aela had put down the rest of the Silver Hand. It would be a shame for such an order to be annihilated completely.

The creaking of a gate opening closed the Harbinger's thoughts, for the moment. It looked like the soldiers had found a way deeper inside the crypt. The giant kept his hand close to his weapon as they delved deeper into the tomb.

What they found was rather plain. Razahir had journeyed through various Nordic ruins and just like most of them, their inhabitants were bloodthirsty creatures. Draugr and the skeletons of old Nords tried to ambush them as soon as they entered the old tomb. They were slain by the Vigils and Dawnguard; easily overwhelmed by the combatants against them since they were trained against their foes.

They encounter a few spiders among the rabble, but they were easily slain by the soldiers. Razahir felt strange at being behind in the resulting battles. He hated standing around and doing nothing in the face of opposition, even against such foes. He was a warrior, and warriors fought against even the smallest, or weakest foe. His sword hand itched and with _Pendulum_ nearby, it was making his ire rise quickly as they travelled through the tomb, dispatching foes he could not strike out against.

By the time they reached their destination, the Harbinger was ready for any sort of action. His blood sang with the thought of violence and he was almost at the point of letting his other side take form.

Carcette placed her key inside the lock, unlocking the door and pushed the portal opened. The hinges creaked ominously, swinging forth slowly. Razahir stepped inside the room and made his way through a small chamber that lead to a balcony. He sucked in a breath as he looked deeper into the cavern.

The outer edges of the cavern were rather simple in appearance and design. What really caught his attention was the building sitting in the middle of the cavern with a bridge leading to it. It was ornate in appearance, reminding him of a temple, or even a shrine. Large, decorative winging creatures sat on the top and sides of the building, holding a silent vigil over the building. Panels of glass decorated the sides of the building and Razahir frowned as he noticed the carved image of a horned figure on the glass. Aela tensed up next to him, noticing it as well.

What they would be dealing with was more dangerous than a simple vampire coven. He could recognize the visage of his father's brother. He examined the winged statues once again, and could briefly make out that they had the same brutal features of his uncle. Bad. Dealing with other Daedric Lords besides his father were always a danger to the mortals that had championed such beings. Otherworldly, godly and held to their own council. When dealing with the Princes, one always had to be careful.

'Is that?' whispered Aela at his side. She stared at the large shrine and picked out the stone monstrosities easily.

'Yes, it looks like this temple is a shrine to Molag Bal,' he whispered back. 'This is definitely a lot more dangerous than I thought. Stay close to me and be on guard, who knows if this can take us to his realm.'

'Father, grant us your favor,' Aela mumbled.

The Harbinger of the Companions grunted. Hircine had favored them enough. Perhaps this was a test to see if they were worth enough for the Daedric Lord of the Hunt. They would soon find out.

'This is amazing!' A vigilant mumbled in awe as he took in the sight. 'Had to believe all of this was built under a mountain.'

Razahir ignored the man. He either had not noticed what it was dedicated too, or was a recruit. No religious order would show appreciation for such a shrine. It was profane to worship such a place and anathema to a Vigilant of Stendarr. Not a moment later, Keeper Carcette's voice could be heard; the voice echoed the verbal debate of the Vigil's ideas spoken in the cave.

The stairs lead to a darkened area which turned around to another juncture that lead to a bridge. The stone bridge was in a surprisingly good state and Razahir pulled his gauntlet off, running his bare hand on the stone. Firm and sturdy, he could feel the strength in the stone by just a touch and he felt something else in the stone. He tilted his head, curiously, and reached out with his magicka. The stone responded and he felt the enchantments in the stone. Nothing dangerous, thankfully, but still curious.

'What do you feel?' Aela asked as the others slowly began to pour in after them. Isran and Carcette were already near the door that led inside the shrine.

'Preservation spell,' he replied, his head still tilted, 'this place was supposed to hold against the ages and was meant to be safe and preserved.' He pulled his hand away and made his way towards the door of the temple that the Dawnguard and Vigilants were stepping inside. He placed a hand on the threshold of the ornate door frame, sending out more arcane power. His thunderous brow furrowed in thought. 'Protection spells and warding spells and some sort of… defense spell… daedric in origin. That's positively not good.' Razahir mumbled, pulling his hand away.

He briefly thought of everything that he knew so far. The thing inside the building was going to be a problem. He was unsure just what this shrine was dedicated to. Could it be a pocket realm that would send one into Molag Bal's realm, or was it just a shrine of worship, or could it be one big trap? He did not know and that made him wary.

'You are going to want to see this.' Keeper Carcette appeared in the doorway, a small frown on her face. She quickly spun back around and walked inside the room. Razahir and Aela followed her, walking inside the shrine. The interior of the shrine was well lit and circular in shape and sitting in the middle was an elaborate coffin. The horned visage of Bal decorated the sarcophagus and a few of the Dawnguard and Vigilants were looking around it, curiously. Razahir tilted his head at the casket wondering just what it held.

'I take it, this is what the vampires were looking for?' questioned the Redguard. The giant warrior ran his hand along the casket, feeling the engravings carved into the stone. He sent a tendril of probing magic at the object and was surprised when it responded.

The top of the casket shifted and whirled as a small platform appeared out of the middle of it. Razahir tilted his head curiously at the object, examining it carefully. It was a simple and tube like with a metal button on the top. The soldiers around him gazed at him quizzically.

'What do you suppose it does?' a vigil questioned, staring at it.

Isran shrugged his powerful shoulders. 'Who knows, but I'd rather be prepared. Everyone,' he raised his voice, 'spread out around the room and stand guard! No telling what this thing will do when its opened.' The soldiers followed Isran's orders, drawing their weapons as they stood in their positions around the room. A few pulled out crossbows and pointed them directly at the casket, after making sure they were ready to fire. Aela stood nearby, her blade out of its scabbard and buckler ready for action. Her light armor gleamed in the lighting, the volcanic glass gleaming.

Razahir reached out with a large hand and placed his hand on top of the tube. The tube did not react and he frowned. He sent out another tendril of magic and the tube responded. He heard the faint sound of a mechanism whirling around inside and his eyes widened in surprise. He tried to pull his hand back, but it was held fast and he felt the very magic of the place trapped him there. A large spike shot out of the tube, tearing through his flesh and bone easily. A bellow of pain escaped his lips, the pain almost bringing him to his knees, but he held himself upright.

'Harbinger!' the concern in Aela's voice could be heard and Razahir shook his head.

'I am fine,' answered Razahir, a small grimace on his face. The spike leaked out his blood slowly and examining it once again, the Redguard noticed a keyhole had opened with the movement of the spike. His blood continued to drain from the spike, a small glow appearing from the center of the spine. 'Although I have a feeling I am stuck now.' He tried moving his hand, but was still held fast, his blood continuing to drain from him and he noticed he was getting weaker. 'Get the key from the Keeper and hand it over, quickly, Huntress, I have a feeling that this thing will not stop until I am drained dry.'

Aela nodded once and quickly made her way to the Keeper instead. Razahir let out a low growl, his vitality continuing to be drained. But, even as his very life essence was being consumed, the Redguard reached out with his magical senses. Being this connected to a magical object, he could understand the mechanism and what its purpose was.

Magical in nature, but the seals and rituals that were put into such a construct were old. Blood magic and necromancy, twisted and turned by a powerful necromancer to give some sort of… obedience? To whoever unlocked this thing. The Harbinger narrowed his eyes. Rather clever of the necromancer that made this, he thought. He tried probing the ritual deeper, but found his magicka was inadequate to compared to whoever put this thing in place…

'Harbinger,' a voice whispered at the edge of his conscious and he was startled. The Harbinger of the Companions found himself on one knee, the spike out of his hand and held nearby him. His second stood nearby, her worried face peering at him.

'Aela?' he was surprised to hear how sluggish his speech was. 'What… happened?'

Aela's face relaxed and a small smile appeared beneath her helmet. 'You became… unresponsive at one point and I finally managed to unlock… whatever that thing was.'

'Blood magic,' he slurred. 'Ancient and still unknown. I could not… figure out what it was. Elaninde would probably be able to… but I cannot.'

'You tried your best,' she whispered soothingly, pulling him closer to her. 'Now let's get you back on your feet. It's rare for people to see the Harbinger of the Companions brought low.'

He nodded his head and stood slowly, Aela helping him to his feet. When the Harbinger had his bearings, he shook his head slowly, feeling the slow feeling slowly start to go away. He watched as Aela pull a small vial from the pouch at her side and pulled the stopper before handing it over to him. He drank the contents quickly, the bitter liquid slipping down his throat. A grimace passed over his face and he straightened, feeling his vigor return. The Harbinger stood tall once more.

He gazed around the area, noticing that a purple line had appeared, leading itself through a brazier and stopping at a hole in the tiled floor.

'This is new,' he commented.

'It happened after I freed you,' she answered, staring at the flames as well. 'The braziers spun around and settled like this. Another lock of sorts?'

Razahir tilted his head, looking around the area. He remembered it had started to change when he had touched the casket before, but now… a violet light expanded from coffin and into a point in the middle of the room. The soldiers were already moving the brazier around, finding that each one they moved held fast when the violet light touched it and the silent flames appeared above the basin. It lead outwards to another place in the floor and Razahir was content on just watching the soldiers move around the area, placing everything where it needed to go.

When the puzzle was finally finished, magic energy rose through the air and he backed away from the casket as he heard metal grinding against metal. It reminded him of being in a Dwemer ruin, hearing the background noise in the back of his head as the machinery continued to operate even with its creators long gone. It was eerie. And being inside this tomb certainly did not help matters.

The magicka built in one area and his sharp magical sense immediately noticed that it was all focused on the casket. The ornate sarcophagi itself began to twist and whirl the top part of the casket opening slowly, groaning like a monstrous creature. Razahir kept his hand close to his sword, ready to draw it in an instant.

The world went silent as the casket finished its opening cycle and Razahir could hear taste the anticipation in the air. He heard a soldier shuffled behind him and frowned slightly, taking a step to the casket. Before he could take a second step a hand appeared on the lip of the casket, pale with nails sharpened to a fine point. The fingers flexed on the lip of the casket before they tightened on the lip and slowly began to rise upwards.

A figure slowly rose out of the casket without a sound. A woman. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her hovering form. A high collared ornate suit of nobility covered her entire form. An ancient elven dagger rested along her belt, the old and worn sheath looking like it could fall apart at any second. The Harbinger's eyes could see all the hidden details that went inside the craftmanship of the suit and already, he was thinking of the multiple ways he could improve such armor. He could probably recreate it, if he had the right materials, maybe even… the Harbinger ended that train of thought when the woman moved.

A yawn tore from the woman's throat and she stretched like a large sabre cat, her armor creaking around her form. Her eyes opened slowly, revealing eyes the color of the sunset. Her eyes glanced around, taking everything in that surrounded her before they paused on him and Aela. He felt Aela stiffen next to him as the woman's eyes landed on her first. He was about to touch her in concern, but the sunset eyes landed on his own as well.

His more primal nature asserted itself and Razahir could feel the low growl rise out of his chest. He could feel the need to dominate, the need to make this woman submit to him as he considered her eyes. Animalistic lust roared through his veins in that one look and he could feel the challenge in the woman's face. An alpha predator encountering the gaze of another and he felt a hand clench on his wrist. Aela had grabbed him.

A small grin passed over the woman's face and Razahir could see the fangs poking out between her lips. The woman looked up and over his shoulder and Razahir turned around slowly.

The door that lead into the shrine was thrown open and vampires stormed inside of the room. The first Vigilant and Dawnguard soldiers were cut down by the on-rushing vampires. Isran and Carcette quickly rallied their men as the vampires swarmed into the room. The clash of metal of against metal echoed through the room and Razahir drew Terminus.

He glanced back at the vampire, noticing that she still floated above her casket, a bored look on her face. He noted that she had not drawn her weapon, over even prepared a spell. Just what do you have planned? He thought before he began to march forward and into the fray.

A vampire lunged at him as he approached, but he responded with a backhanded stroke of his sword. The vampire's body came apart in two halves and he marched on, pulverizing the chiropteran face as he marched on. Two of the vampires rushed him and he let out a bellow of challenge. They charged at him as one and Razahir smirked. The first tried to slash at him, the war axe chopping at his shoulder while the other went for his knees. The Harbinger ignored both attacks, letting them slash against his ebony armor. Not even a scratch, or blemish appeared on his metal skin and he responded quickly. His first strike sliced off the head of one, while the other stabbed into the chest of the second. Razahir could hear the crunch of bone and the sluggish heart beat came to a stop. He pulled his sword free.

An arrow whistled past him and pierced the next vampire in the eye and he smiled. Aela had joined the fray.

As Razahir approached the next vampire, he noticed that another had stepped into the room. He punched the next vampire full in the face, knocking out a few of its teeth. Before they could fall back, he grabbed them by the collar and brought his knee into their chest. He stepped forward with his right leg, placing it behind the vampire's left and pushed. The vampire stumbled to the ground and Razahir's sword pierced the monster's chest and he pulled his blade free, watching the new figure that stepped into the room.

Based on the armor the man wore, he was the leader of this coven. It was an elaborate piece of steel armor with a demonic face on the breastplate and shimmered lightly. A heavy mace was at his side, a demonic looking maul. Razahir recognized the weapon instantly. The Mace of Molag Bal was a fabled weapon to be sure and in the hands of a vampire? The vampire must had held a lot of favor with the Daedric Lord. He frowned slightly, wanting to have the Ring of his father before he shook his head; Hircine would grant him that when he was ready.

At the vampire's side was a small Breton. The young woman looked so out of place, but the leader of the coven appeared unconcerned with her. A simple black robe covered her from head to toe. A dagger was belted along her waist and Razahir tilted his head in the young woman's direction. She gave off a rather submissive position and Razahir noted that she kept herself out of arms reach of the vampire.

For now, he ignored the woman and charged straight for the master vampire. He barreled over one of the monsters, shoulder thrust forward, crushing the vampire with his bulk. He shouted for a Dawnguard soldier to move out of his way as he charged. The fighter quickly disengaged from his fight, diving out of the Harbingers way and getting clear of the wall of ebony. When he was in swinging distance of the master vampire, he raised his blade and was ready to bring it down on the vampire.

'Enough!' a voice shouted. A surge of magical energy suddenly rose through the air and Razahir felt his magical senses flare wildly in response. He watched as a red mist enveloped his body, wrapping around him and freezing him in place. He tried to free himself and found that he could not. He was stuck fast and the only thing he could move were his eyeballs. He noticed that everyone else had suddenly frozen in position just as he was and the only sign that they were still alive was by the quick movements of their eyes.

The woman inside of the casket soon floated past him, the toes of her boots hovering over the tiled floor. She stared at him as she floated by, orange eyes locked onto his own. Razahir felt the muted growl once again in his throat as he stared down at the woman. He noticed that her hands were glowing, a hellish red, cloudy mist that seeped outwards from her bare palms.

Blood magic, the werewolf thought, a small scowl appearing on his handsome, patrician features. Vampire's utilized the very blood they consumed to cast rather devastating spells against the mortals that took up arms against them. Razahir had encountered a few of them in his journeys around the providence, but none of them displayed such a powerful spell. Most could hardly get their weapons close to his armor before they fell to his blade. Then again, most of them had been feral and insane from not consuming enough blood. This vampire appeared… normal.

Well, as normal concerning floating vampires buried in a tomb.

The vampire turned away from him and floated in front of the master vampire. She looked him over, her feet – finally – touching the floor. She moved with a dancer's grace; lithe with sure steps. She walked around the frozen vampire, trailing a finger idly over the master vampire's armor. She paid attention to the daemonic armor with the sigils and the mace he carried. Her small pale hand reached out and wrap around the haft of the mace, pulling it from his hand easily. She gazed at deadly head of the mace, her index finger prodding one of the spiked flanges.

'This is the mace of our lord.' She said, looking at the deadly looking flanges on the head of the mace. 'How did a thin blood acquire such a weapon?'

'Our master granted it to me after I sent one of Boethiah's worshipers to damnation. Their soul now rests in our lord's realm for eternity.'

The entombed woman tilted her head, staring at him as if he were a bug. 'Interesting, I suppose,' she muttered and Razahir could hear the false interest in her tone. 'What bloodline are you from? Are you a servant of my parents?'

'No,' the man let a small grin pass over his face. 'We're the Blood Raven coven.'

The woman's face shifted, her face becoming ice-like and her eyes dulling. 'That's a traitor's coven. My parents banished after our change. Almost stole a relic of Molag Bal…' her eyes slid across the mace. 'Looks like you've started all over again; I'll take this,' she raised the mace, 'and your life as well.'

'Wait! You can't – '

He was cut off before he could even finish his plea. The vampire raised her hand, red magic gathered into her palm. The sinister mist gathered and wrapped around his body, armor and all, seeping into his skin and diving into the seams of his armor. The vampire burst apart like an overripe fruit. Blood, internal organs, and bones were scattered around the small area in meaty chunks. The blood drenched armor clattered to the floor in a small pile now that it's occupant was destroyed in such a grisly way.

The vampire turned to the vampire at her side, the Breton woman, who he had examined from earlier flinched away from her gaze. A… softness entered the woman's eyes as she regarded the woman. She raised a finger in her direction.

'You: you're coming with me.' The vampire said before she turned around and faced the rest of the occupants in the room. She looked over the gathered mass of vampires and hunters and vigilants and let a fanged smile passed over her face. 'It is strange seeing this mass of hunters in one big gathering. All of you… mortals,' she, briefly, locked eyes on him and Aela, a knowing smirk appearing on her face, 'all drawn into one place. But all the excitement has run out of me, for the moment.'

She stared at the frozen crowd in front of her, crossing her arms over her chest. 'Your foe, your true enemy, however, is very far from here. Castle Volkihar sits on an island off the shore in the northern reaches of Skyrim. That is where I will be heading, pursue us if you would like to find any answers.'

She gave the crowd once last look and flashed them a smile. Her hand wrapped around the arm of the Breton and right before his eyes, the pair changed into a cloud of mist and hovered in the air for a moment. Then the mist rolled backwards, taken up by an invisible wind and moved to the doorway. The door did not even impede the cloud as it sank through the cracks of the door and outside.

As soon as the last wisp of the mist disappeared, Razahir found himself able to move his body once more. The others around him began to move as well and he quickly moved toward the nearest vampire and cut him down. The Dawnguard and Vigilants followed his example, quickly cutting down the surprised vampires. The traitorous fiends did not put up too much of a fight after their leader had been slain and only a few of the monsters managed to get a few blows in before they were hacked down by the blades of the hunters and religious fanatics.

As his blade slashed through the last of the vampires, he turned to Isran as he sheathed his hammer. Razahir followed his example, sheathing Terminus and approaching the leader of the Dawnguard. He noticed Carcette, bowing in front of a slain vigilant of Stendarr, praying for the man.

'Now what?' he asked, already knowing the answer before it was given.

'Now,' Isran muttered, staring at one of his own slain men. His eyes were lit up by anger and vengeance along with something else. 'We head to Castle Volkihar and end those leeches.'


	15. High Hrothgar

High Hrothgar

Valeka slowly opened her eyes as she woke up. A yawn tore its way from her throat as she sat up slowly. She examined her surroundings, noticing that Lydia still slept in her armor, her sword and shield nearby. The noble born woman, snored softly, twitching slightly in her sleep. Valeka felt a small smile appear on her face at the sight of the stalwart warrior in deep slumber.

She sat up fully in bed and slowly slid out from underneath her covers and stood quietly. She crept past the sleeping warrior and moved over to her pack, pulling out her clothes. She pulled them on, annoyed that a slight crease had developed in her fine shirt and marveled at how the trousers fit her so well. Jarl Balgruuf's tailors had known exactly what her size was. She shrugged off such thoughts as she attached her war aze to her belt and snuck out of the room, closing the door behind her quietly.

She continued her quiet movements until she was halfway down the hall and straightened her posture, no longer concerned about making too much noise. The staircase that lead down stairs creaked softly as she descended it and soon, she stepped into the common room for the inn. The common room was almost empty, a few patrons and the barmaid was making a few rounds this early in the morning.

She paused as she noticed Elaninde sitting by herself in a corner that faced the entryway of the room. The mage held a mug in her hand and was sipping on it occasionally while she read a book. Valeka remembered the large sum she had left at the counter and the resulting silence they had at their table the previous night and felt a small sigh form from her mouth. She made her way to the table.

The High Elf looked up at her as she slid into the seat opposite of her and stared at her with her brow raised. She stared at her silently for a small amount of time before she closed her book.

The Altmer placed the book on the table. The barmaid approached.

'Would you like anything to break your fast?' she asked politely.

'She'll take the same as me,' Elaninde responded instead, putting a few pieces of silver in the waitress' hand. 'If another woman joins us, she'll take the same as well.' The High Elf flashed her a white smile and the barmaid nodded and quickly departed.

'It's bear meat, with cheese and cabbage stew along with a few loafs of bread and eggs.' The High Elf said. 'Rather large, but I have a feeling it will be needed when we take the steps up to the Throat of the World.'

'Thank you,' Valeka responded.

Elaninde nodded her head, staring at her curiously. 'I find myself surprised that you actually decided to join me.' She confessed, still staring at her. Valeka took the seat, silently, her brow furrowed in thought.

'Yes,' she admitted, a frown tugging at the corner of her lips, 'I should not have after that stunt you pulled the whole time we were together before the dragon.'

'I apologize for that,' she responded, her eyes looking toward the pine table. Her hand rose onto the top of the book and she began to tap a simple rhythm on it. 'Truly. I am certainly not… proud of it. It's a thing that I just… do when it comes to meeting new people.' A sad smile passed over her face. 'You should have seen how Razahir reacted to it when I first met him. It was like the Red Mountain erupting once again, but much more human. You do not want him to be angry at you; you can practically feel the emotions running off on him. And when he's around his Companions?' the elf shuddered. 'I would probably be a few limbs short if they had found out about that nasty business.'

Valeka did not know what to think of that. The Harbinger of the Companions – a giant among men – sounded like quite the scary sight indeed if he was chasing someone. She still recalled the agile and quick movements the giant made. There was no way someone that big should be able to move that fast.

'Luckily, they never did and the Harbinger forgave me. It took a few months, but he did and the rest is history. He actually crafted a few of my items and has helped me out in a few pinches when I need it.'

'You two sound close.' Valeka answered.

'We are,' she confirmed with a smile. 'Not as close as him and his Huntress, but I am sure if he ever needed me and I needed him, we would make sure to help each other.' She waved her hand. 'But that's not the point of this tale. The other part is about how I cast spells that, I suppose would count as messing with people's minds.

'I like to know everything about people when I first meet them,' she muttered. 'Anything and everything: their hopes, their dreams, and a whole plethora of unneeded information. I like it to hear it, all of it, no matter how boring it is.' She looked away from her, staring down at the table, her nails still tapping. 'People's lives, their perspectives and all those little things in between. That's what I like to hear about.'

'And you can't just ask people these sorts of things when you start the conversation?' Valeka questioned.

Elaninde chuckled. There was no warmth in that laugh and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The Altmer waved her hand in the general direction of the inn. 'What you saw last night when I strolled inside the inn is how most civilized people react to my presence now. If we were in a different setting, I am sure one or two things would have happened; I would have been kicked out instantly, or some unsavory individuals would start drawing steel.' She shrugged her shoulders. 'And people just do not like opening up to strangers as well.'

Valeka remained silent, thinking over the she-elf's words. She looked at the table, her eyes narrowed in thought. Elaninde was correct; people really did not want their stories heard, and she remembered a few of the hostile looks a few of the patrons of the inn had shot at her when she had stepped inside. And thinking back on it, she recalled the few travelers along the road that had gave the woman sidelong glances, their hands close to the hilts of their weapons. It really must have been a shame for her to go through things she had no control over.

'I see…' Valeka mumbled. The barmaid swept in at that point, placing a few plates in front of the pair. Valeka felt her stomach grumble as the delicious aroma of food wafted into her nostrils. One dish had thin cut slices of bear meat coated in a few spices and cloves of garlic and next to two sunny side up eggs. A full loaf of bread sat in between them and Elaninde was already snagging a few of them and making herself a sandwich out of the meat and cheese. The elf mage tilted her head for a moment and then added a few eggs into the combination as well. The cabbage soup sat in a large bowl, steam wafting off the top of the broth.

Valeka palmed her eating utensils, thinking over Elaninde's words. If it bothered the mer, she gave no sign and began to dig into her sandwich with gusto. Valeka watched her for a few moments before she nodded her head slowly to herself. She knew what she would do.

She stared to cut into her beat meat with fork and knife, saying: 'While I kind of understand what you mean when it comes to your spells, just remember it _does not_ mean I forgive you. Keep most of them to yourself unless it's one of your protection spells, or I will bury my axe into your face.'

Elaninde, calmly, pulled back from her meal, chewing on her food thoughtfully. 'Almost the exact same thing Razahir said, although he used a few choicer words and threatened me with his sword.' She lowered her food, looking at her with amber colored eyes. 'I will make sure to listen to your words and keep my spell casting around you to a minimum before we finish this journey.'

'Deal,' Valeka agreed. The young woman placed a few slices of meat into her mouth and chewed. She sighed in pleasure at the delicious meal and began to dig into it with the same gusto as Elaninde.

When Lydia finally arrived, Valeka was questioning the contents of Elaninde's book, a smile on the Altmer's face as she answered the woman's questions.

Valeka stared up at the path to the Throat of the World and felt vertigo hit her. The mountain was so damned huge! Mists clung to the peaks of the mountain, covering the top spires from view. Snow also covered the peaks of the mountains and Valeka frown as she unconsciously shivered. She hoped it would not be too cold that high up in the mountain. A blizzard had caught many travelers unaware and the same travelers disappeared, never to be heard from again.

By the Gods, she hoped she did not end up disappearing like that. She trailed a finger along the haft of her mace, shivering slightly.

'Quite big, is it not?' Elaninde said, as she too stared up at the mountain. 'Especially up this close. Almost reminds me of a god pointing its finger to the heavens. Believe it, or not, the Red Mountain was bigger before it erupted.'

'The Red Mountain?' Valeka asked, turning her face slightly to face the Altmer. The she-elf had turned her head, looking toward the northeast. A faint frown passed over her face as she stared in that direction. The look disappeared and she faced her and Lydia once again. 'Yes, an active volcano that erupted at the beginning of this era. One of its most devastating eruptions. We still see the repercussions of it even now and probably will later.'

'And now the Dark Elves have made their home in Windhelm. Word has it that Ulfric is allowing them to make that their capital too.' Lydia added. 'Or at least make it so that they have their headquarters there. Cannot really remember which it is.'

'It is an entire colony,' Elaninde chimed in. 'House Hlaalu has risen once again as a Great House, but now it is based in Windhelm. Ulfric certainly does have a powerful ally now. The new leader is Sathas Hlaalu – he was an ambitious elf when he was younger, but now he has a title to go with it.'

'You know him?' Lydia asked in surprise.

'Yes, yes I do. He helped the Nerevarine defeat the Blight in Morrowind before she disappeared to the east. He was a decent fellow then and I wonder how the years have been for him. I haven't seen him in centuries.'

Valeka shared a look with Lydia. It was hard to imagine one living for so long. Elaninde described centuries as if it were only a few months that passed. For mortals, that was a rather long time and with the harsh Skyrim land where one barely made it to half a century. Old age was something almost unheard of for the savage race of hardy Nords.

'We should start the hike. We will not solve anything by standing around here,' said Lydia. The small group each nodded and began to cross the bridge, heading up the path that would lead them to High Hrothgar.

As they approached the base of the mountain, they noted a small marker along the side of the path. A etched stone that had a few words drawn on its face.

'Tablets detailing the founding of High Hrothgar,' Lydia commented before Elaninde could explain. 'Father explained all of this once after he made the journey. He used to always tell us tales about everything he encountered on the mountain. Once, he got captured in a blizzard and heard some massive creature moving around at night. It never attacked him, but ever since then he hardly ever makes the journey.'

Valeka remained silent, quietly thinking that over.

As she mused, they continued up the mountain, putting hiking their way up the Seven Thousand steps. The path was treacherous with frozen puddles of ice covering some of the stones. She had slipped on a few, grumbling beneath her breath. She would occasionally glance over the side of the cliff and noticed they were getting higher, and Ivarstead continued to shrink.

They had hardly gotten halfway up the mountain when they made camp for the night.

Valeka slung her pack off her shoulder, tossing it next to the campfire. The woman stretched the stiffness out of her bones, already feeling them beginning to protest from the hike. She glanced up towards the summit of the mountain, still noticing that it was covered in a shroud of mist. Elaninde waved her hand at the camp and a small orb of fire danced from her palm. The small orb settled in the middle of the bundle of wood and greedily began to feed and soon a fire was burning merrily in front of them. The heat it gave off was a welcomed relief from the cold mountain air.

'I had forgotten how long this could take.' Elaninde grumbled, hand raised. A large boulder floated in front of her and she waved her free hand at it. The boulder burst apart into neat and even pieces, each of them shaped like a chair.

Valeka thanked her, throwing herself into the stone and winced in slight pain. Lydia sat down with an elegant grace, thanking the Altmer as well. Elaninde waved them both off.

'Do not worry about it; it'll be a long journey up the mountain, may as well stay as comfortable as possible at night instead of during the day.' She tilted her head, raising her hands slowly. Multiple flares of magic flew from her palms then as she cast more spells, each of them burying itself deep into the snow encrusted ground. She lowered them a moment later. 'Wards, just in case something decides to ambush us.'

Valeka watched as she slumped down into her seat. She could still feel the faint residue of magicka dancing through the air and she tilted her head curiously. She had never been able to sense magic before, but now, her senses were far more sensitive. She thought back to how it happened and realized that it had started ever since she had taken in the dragon's soul. Strange.

She frowned thoughtfully at that before she shook her head. They would find the Greybeards soon enough and hopefully the Masters of the Voice would be able to answer her questions.

'Check that out,' Elaninde suddenly said, pointing upwards and at the sky. The campfire illuminated her golden features and Valeka realized how late it had gotten. She must have been staring into the fire for quite some time because when she looked up, the sun had disappeared and was replaced by stars. Masser and Secunda hung next to each other, the massive orbs taking up some of the sky. No clouds were in the sky and dancing in front of the moons was a rainbow of dancing color.

The aurora borealis was a beautiful sight this late at night.

Valeka stared up at the sky in wonder, watching as it appeared to wave at her.

'It's moments like this when living in Skyrim is worth it.' Elaninde commented. Valeka noted out of the corner of her eye that Lydia nodded her head, staring up at the sky.

'Now, I can see why father made the journey.' Lydia agreed. 'Being up here is surprisingly… peaceful.'

'They say the journey up here is supposed to be peaceful. I can see how that would work.' Valeka added.

The Dragonborn, briefly, wondered how long they were staring up at the sky, but soon enough forgot. The stars were glimmering back at her, twinkling slightly. The young woman took the time to enjoy the presence of the pair of warriors next to her instead. They had more hiking to do and she knew that moments like this only lasted for some time.

The second day was largely uneventful. They had journeyed across multiple markers that stood on the side of the mountain and when they reached the fourth one, they came across a pilgrim, a Nordic woman, who wore a light set of armor. She mediated in front of the stone tablet, ignoring the world around her.

Around the time they had arrived, it was around lunch time and they decided to share their meal with the older Nord. She spoke with them about the dangers that blocked the path ahead and Valeka kept a hand nearby her weapons just in case something ambushed them. Luckily, they had nothing to worry about, and the noon day food replenished their strength for the path onwards. The woman thanked them gratefully and they continued.

On their third day of the trip, they strolled past a small cave that reeked. A low growl answered ahead of them and a large white-furred humanoid landed in front of them. It towered above each of them and stared at them with three eyes. Valeka wrapped her hands around the hilt of her weapons. She freed them slowly, staring down at the monster.

'Just one? Who would have though – '

Lydia was cut off by two thumps from behind them. Valeka looked backwards and noticed two more of the hulking monsters had appeared. A low growl was the only warning they received before the monsters tore to them.

Elaninde raised her hands and a blazing ball of fire flew at the creatures as Lydia stomped towards the one in front. The fire ball landed a few feet in front of the monsters instead of striking them.

Valeka was about to admonish Elaninde for the miss, but the ball of fire quickly expanded and changed form. A burning form took shape and Valeka noted it was a humanoid female with horns, pointed ears, three fingers and two toes. Black metal armor covered her modesty and a glowing trail of fire followed the creature's lithe movements. A ball of fire formed into the flaming woman's three fingered hand and she tossed it at the troll. The hulking monster screaked as the ball of fire crashed into it, sending it reeling. The atronach dived at the troll a moment afterwards, its three fingered hands digging into the flesh of the screaming creature.

Valeka watched the attacking construct for just a moment before Elaninde coughed pointedly at her, waving her hand in the direction of the final troll. Valeka stepped forward, her mace and axe raised above her right shoulder, arms bent at an angle. She ducked backwards beneath its sweeping arms and swung her weapons into the thigh of the monster. Her axe parted flesh, easily with the fire enchantment on the metal and the mace crushed the bone of the monster. It sagged from the weight, falling to the ground on its knees. It moved to grab her with one large, bulky arm, but she parried aside the questing hand with a backhanded swipe of her mace. Her axe descended into the monster's skull, and it took two quick chops to stop the monster entirely. The troll crunched into the frozen ground, its body limp and unmoving.

Valeka turned to the last beast, her weapons raised.

She watched as Lydia stood her ground against the next monster and Valeka could not help but notice the woman faced every challenge head on. If she ever showed any fear, or terror, she made sure it was locked tightly away from her noble countenance. As always, her shield was up and in front of her while her sword rested at the top right corner rim of the metal. The troll tried clubbing her with its massive arms, but the young woman turned them aside easily. She really was an immovable force.

Elaninde tossed a fireball at the troll, striking it full in the face. The monster bellowed in a painful rage and the elf threw another fireball at it. The next ball struck it fully into the chest and sent the monster flying off its feet. The monster had been near the edge of the cliff. Lydia had managed to herd the hulking monstrosity near it. A roar was the last they heard of the troll as it disappeared over the edge of the mountain.

'Well that was fun,' Elaninde commented, lowering her hands slowly. The burning woman hovered nearby her, dancing through the air and leaving a trail of fire around her. Valeka stared at the woman and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lydia echoed her. The she-elf turned her gaze toward the woman as well, a small smile on her face. 'You did rather well like always Talon, thank you for your service.' The flame atronach did a few complex acrobatic movements through the air before she disappeared into a cloud of purple, pulsating energy, banished once more into the realms of Oblivion.

'What was that?' Lydia questioned, as she sheathed her blade into the elaborate hilt along her belt. The woman continued to stare at the places where the woman of fire had been.

'An atronach of fire,' Elaninde explained, a small smile on her face. 'I call her Talon. She's a lesser creature from Oblivion. Managed to summon her once I took a small side trip to Infernace. She's rather helpful when it comes to quelling the trolls when I go out and hunt for alchemy ingredients. Do not worry, she is firmly under my control along with the others.'

'You have more than one?' Lydia question, incredulously.

The elf just nodded her head. 'Well come along then, we are almost at the end of our journey. High Hrothgar is just a few hours travel from here, if I remember correctly.' The elf smiled and continued her way past, her robes twisting around her.

'I swear, the more I learn about her…' Lydia grumbled. Valeka nodded her head in agreement.

'The more you want to know?' Valeka questioned, falling in line with Lydia. She noted that the woman stood a few steps behind her as they walked. She was confused about that, but for now she ignored it. 'I think the same thing every time. She is a strange one.'

'That she is,' Lydia said, watching the Altmer's back. 'I wonder how strong she is,' the dark-haired woman said.

'I think it would be safe to assume to not mess with her,' Valeka commented. The pair followed the Altmer and in front of them was a small pass where the trolls had made their lair. It could hardly be called a lair since the place was just one big opening on the side of the mountain. The reek of troll passed through their noses and Valeka almost gagged as they rifled through a few of the troll's things. The haul of the trolls was just some old bones that had been gnawed on and held nothing else of valuable. Elaninde cleansed the place, effortlessly, with a ball of fire before they continued through the pass.

The burning cave was left behind to the elements and soon they reached another one of the markers. Valeka, briefly, looked over the inscription before she continued onwards, following the path carefully. The stone script still spoke about Alduin being shouted out of the world by Man. That small little nugget caused a thought to get lodged in his mind. The same had happened to the previous tablet as well. Alduin and Paarthurnax sounded rather familiar to her, and she was curious on why.

Hopefully the Greybeards had a few answers for her.

The next few hours passed by rather quickly with them walking. Elaninde and Lydia spoke among each other, and Valeka decided not to join them. She hovered behind the pair, listening without really listening and staring at the landscape around her. It was rather beautiful.

She stared off the Throat of the World to her left and her breath caught in her throat. The entire central and western providence of Skyrim stood out in front of her. Luckily, the air was clear with no signs of snow, over even rain. Mountains stood out among the forward and backdrop of the entire scene in front of her. She could see the dark fortress of Bleak Falls Barrow with Riverwood beneath its shadow. She wondered how Camilla and Faendal were doing, briefly, before she turned her gaze towards Whiterun.

Dragonsreach still stood tall with its golden roof. The large bastion stood out like a thumb among the plains that surrounded Whiterun. She had been inside of the castle for ages, but now she realized how small it was compared to the Throat of the World. It appeared like a tiny little smudge to her. It was large, but when you stood on the Throat of the World, everything just looked tiny in comparison.

She wondered if this was how a god felt when they stared down at their followers, or perhaps Nirn itself. The comparison seemed rather correct as she stared outwards from her perch. The further she looked, the more enraptured she got. The tundra of Whiterun expanded outwards over a large swath of land and only stopped at the base of mountains surrounding the tundra. She squinted her eyes northward, wondering if she could catch a glimpse of Solitude – the capital of Skyrim – in the distance. If she could see it, it was probably a little smudge on the horizon from here.

She shook her head and continued walking, her eyes occasionally looking off the mountain.

Before she knew it, they arrived at the last marker and the fortress-monastery of the Greybeards, High Hrothgar.

She stared in complete awe at the formidable looking fortress that sat right on the path. Dark granite made up its high walls and a lone tower stood above the central path of the fortress. The face of dragons decorated the top of the walls of the building and two large worn stair cases lead up into the building and a large chest sat in the between the path that lead up to the stairs. As she approached, she noticed that the door on the right slowly began to open. The heavy oak doors creaked on its hinges as a gray robed figure stepped outside.

It was an old man with startling blue eyes and a long, grey haired beard. He gave off a serene presence and his blue eyes drifting over Elaninde and Lydia, quietly assessing them before they stopped on her. A small, serene smile appeared on his face as he looked her over, nodding his head slowly.

She stepped in front of him, pass both of her companions and the first step of the right staircase, looking up at the old man.

'Dovahkiin,' he spoke slowly, his wizened voice carrying a deep, almost mystical wisdom. 'It's nice of you to finally join us. I hope the Seven Thousand Steps was not too rifled with peril.' He raised his arms, slowly expanding them before he gentle bowed in front of her. 'I am Master Arngeir, please, allow me to be the first to welcome you to High Hrothgar.'


	16. Assault of Castle Volkihar

'This Castle Volkihar, have you heard of it?' asked Razahir. Aela shook her head, running her fingers through her unbraided hair. Her face paint had been washed off for the night, and Razahir admired her strong, regal features as she pulled some of the strands away from her face.

'I can't say I have.' She was looking over a map, her fingers lightly tracing the map. 'The vampire said it was north of Solitude, correct?'

Razahir inclined his head. He moved near her, his eyes looking over the map. It had been marked and etched with black markings to show where they had traveled in Skyrim. Most notably, Whiterun Hold was entirely filled out with scribbles and scratching, since that was the main area his Companions operated out of. Only a few etchings were marked to know where they had journeyed too, and a star marked where Ysgamor's tomb stood. He briefly traced it before he moved away from it and toward the northern coast of Solitude.

A frown twisted his face as he looked it over. 'Remind me, to send word to Vilkas that the Companions need to scout out the entire providence,' he rumbled, looking at the blank and unexplored parts. Aela gently tapped his knuckles with a folded piece of paper.

'I'll send it in the morning,' she placed it on the edge of the map and Razahir gave her a look. She kissed his cheek before turning back to the map.

'We've actually hunted up there before, dear. There was that prison break we did to free the Gray-Manes son, Thorald. I want to say we've been there before as well. Remember what the prisoners used to speak about? The haunted castle far off the coast? I think that is the place they're speaking of. It certainly would explain why the Thalmor never did try to attack it, a castle full of undead vampires, would give the elves a reason to not attack.'

'True enough, or they never had a reason to take it over.' He shrugged his massive shoulders, shaking his head. 'Now, how exactly can we get there?' He eyed the map again, making a rough estimate on where they had camped for the night. 'We're camped here and Dawnstar is just to the north of us. We can take a boat and just hug the coast line until we get to this point and then steadily make our way out to the general direction of the castle.'

Aela stared at the map as well. 'I hope that would work. We will have to tell Isran that plan and see if he agrees. Hopefully, Dawnstar has enough boats for a small army.'

'If anything, we can acquire one ourselves. Ulfric's corsairs are always moving around in this area, hopefully he will not notice one of his ships disappearing.'

'No, dear, the Companions will not become involved in this war. Until someone marches on Whiterun, that's the only time we will get involved, remember? We promised Balgruuf.'

Razahir sighed. 'I recall. I just wonder who it will be first. The Empire, or Ulfric and his men?'

'Either way, the Companions will defend Whiterun to the last. Come, love, lets get some rest. We can speak with Isran and his bunch in the morning.'

They met Isran and Carcette early in the morning. The overhead sky was blanketed with iron grey clouds and Razahir could feel the chill in the air. Around him, the rest of the camp was starting to wake up. He ignored the pitched tents that surrounded him, and the Vigilants and Dawnguard soldiers surrounding their campfires. A few glanced in his and Aela's direction, but he ignored those as well.

A guard was not posted at Isran's tent, and Aela's much smaller form slipped into the tent since the pitched tent hardly reached his pectorals. Instead, he stood a few feet away from the tent, looking at the tent that was spread before him. He heard a brief commotion behind him; a gasp of surprise and a curse from a deep voice followed by Aela's brief chuckle. He heard the tent flaps open once again and Aela returned to his side, a wolfish grin on her face.

He had feeling he knew why and it was confirmed when Isran and Carcette came out of the tent together after a few more moments. He inhaled once, tasting the air, and rolled his eyes when he noticed that the pair's scents were mingled together. He turned fully to face them with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

'Forgive us for the interruption, but we need to talk. Aela and I have been looking over the map and have found the location for where the vampire wants us to go. Since we already know it's off the coast. We just need to know which way to go to get there.'

'Dawnstar,' said Isran, 'It would be a waste of time to travel through Skyrim and who knows just what that thing in the crypt could accomplish in such a small amount of time. I assume you noticed the thing draped across its back?'

Razahir shook his head.

'An Elder Scroll; surprised you missed the damn thing.' Razahir closed his eyes and thought back. His memory was a vast thing and as he pictured the woman, he noticed that there was something large and golden across the woman's back. His eyes opened slowly, noting that there had not been a lull in the conversation: 'If the vampires have that, there's no telling what they'll accomplish. The rest of the Dawnguard are heading there now.'

'The Vigilants as well.' Carcette spoke up. The Breton was clad in a simple tunic and pants. Her skin was flushed, and she shivered slightly when a cold wind blew across them, ruffling their clothing. 'The Order is small, but we will help you against these leeches.'

'I would send word to the Companions, but it appears that they're all tied up as well. Sadly, we're the only ones you'll be getting,' said Aela. Razahir knew that to be true. His pack was one of the best fighting forces in Skyrim and they continued to grow. The Circle was dutiful even with his new reformation and he continued to receive letters from Vilkas on troop numbers, recruitment reports and raids the Companions did on raider camps. It appeared Whiterun had an influx of such marauders in the weeks leading up to his and Aela's departure. Dragons were also being sighted around the providence, but luckily, his people had not encounter the dangerous foes. They would probably be able to hold their own, but better safe than sorry.

Isran inclined his head at that, but his face was still stony. The Harbinger was slightly curious of the surly Redguard's thought, but quickly pushed that away. Isran was a driven man and even without the help of his Companions, he would still go after the vampire threat. Privately, he wondered just how far the hunter would go to defeat the vampire's he hated; how far would the man go into the abyss? Razahir kept his face blank as he was reminded of the Silver Hand once again. They too had hunted daedric entities and he wondered how far the man would go if he was given the chance.

'Since we are going to Dawnstar, I'll send word ahead that the Harbinger has need of a ship.' Razahir stated. 'Hopefully, we can get a few and have a nice captain that can get us to the castle. If you'll excuse me; Aela and I need to have a word.' He looked the pair over, a small grin passed over his face. 'Sorry for the interruption. Hopefully, you two can get back to whatever it was that you were doing.' He turned away, holding his arm out to Aela. The she-wolf shook her head and looped her arm with his and they quickly strolled away.

'We may have to destroy the Dawnguard.'

Aela glanced at him sharply, her silver-green eyes lancing through him as he continued to stare into the fire pit, watching the wood crackle and burn.

Castle Volkihar was a massive ruin that sat on an isolated island. The once great and mighty spires had long since fallen into decay and decrepit. Its granite walls were cracked in places and other areas were just crumbling pieces of masonry. The castle looked completely empty and there was no activity in the courtyard, or at the top of the lone tower that sat at along the shore of the island.

Razahir stared at the top of the tower _Terminus_ in hand. Aela, Carcette, and Isran dropped down next to him with a loud splash. The ice-cold water of the Sea of Ghosts ran into his boots and he shivered slightly before he ignored it.

After he rose from his crouch, Isran directed his soldiers towards the tower with a few hand movements. The Dawnguard broke and a few Vigilants broke off and headed to the tower, quickly disappearing inside. A crow cry answered them to signal that the tower was empty and Razahir watched the frown deepen on Isran's face. He flashed a few more silent hand movements and the rest of the Dawnguard and Vigilants broke off and made their way through the courtyard of the Castle.

Isran pulled _Hammer of Light_ from its harness along his back and raised his hand, chanting beneath his breath. A faint whisper of power echoed along the shore and the sun appeared on the beach. Isran marched forward, a golden circle of swirling power surrounding him. Razahir had to advert his eyes as another sun joined him and Carcette followed him, her own circle of sunlight surrounding her. Razahir noticed that hers was brighter than Isran's and made sure to keep away from her in the battle.

Aela stood close to him, her short sword and shield in hand. She flexed back and forth, warming her body for the coming battle. He could see the feral glint in her eyes, her other side lurking around inside of eyes. He itched to turn to his other half as well, but firmly pushed that back down. He was in control and in a massive battle with vampires, he wanted to keep his control as well. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and placed his great helm on his head. He breathed deeply, feeling the magic run across his skin before he marched forward.

As he and Aela made their way to the back of the small army of warriors, there was a commotion in the frontlines. Razahir stood heads and shoulders above the Dawnguard and Vigilant soldiers and had a perfect view of what happened. One of the stone creatures that stood on the rails of the bridge had come alive and were attacking the soldiers. One of the stone constructs grabbed a Vigilant by his gorget and launched him to the back of the line. Razahir ducked aside to avoid the thrown body and continued marching to the front.

Isran and Carcette fought side by side to end this new threat. Their weapons were deadly instruments in their hands as they attacked the constructs. Isran was all power and fury, while Carcette was swift and calm. Their bludgeoning blows crushed the chests and heads of the monsters, easily battering them aside.

The few soldiers that held swords tried to attack the constructs, but their swords were turned aside by their rocky skin. The gargoyles countered the attacking constructs with deadly looking claws and brutal swings of their forearms. They crushed and clubbed down the unfortunate soldiers with swords that got to close. Razahir watched as one of them stomped onto a screaming Vigilant, crushing her head with a wet crunch.

Razahir reached the first gargoyle, swinging his blade in a powerful overhead chop. The gargoyle allowed the blow to cleave into its chest and was taken by surprise when his sword slashed through. Razahir smirked beneath his great helm, thanking his talent for enchanting steel. It had cut through the monster without a pause, while others hand not ever managed to slash inside the beasts hide. He slashed once again, his blade cutting off one of the monster's head. He crushed the head beneath his armored foot and turned to face another of the creatures.

This one bowed its head and tried to gore him. He skidded backwards with a grunt, the beast trying to push its way into his abdomen. Razahir sent his elbow crashing into the monster's spine and was satisfied when he heard a crack. The beast roared, still trying to dig itself into his chest plate. He punched the monster with his free hand, digging his palm deep inside the monsters back. With a thought, he sent a fireball forming into his hand and watched as cracks of red appeared in the brute's flesh. It exploded on him a moment later, sending dust and stone chips against his armored form.

Aela dashed past him, her sword raised high. She turned her charge into a knee slide, enchanted steel cutting into flesh. The gargoyle collapsed onto the nubs of its legs and she quickly stood, decapitating it with a swing of her sword. She kicked the head over the stone railing and fell in line with him. He nodded his thanks in her direction and moved toward the last of the creatures.

They made quick sport of them, and soon, only stone chips and blocky pieces of body parts surrounded them on the bridge. Razahir glanced at the inside of the constructs, noticing a few of them were made from rather precious materials. He ignored pilfering the pieces and noticed that a few of the Dawnguard soldiers and Vigilants had no such qualms. It amused him slightly to watch one of them try and hide an arm of the monsters in his bag.

'No time for looting these statues,' Carcette's voice broke though the quiet bridge. 'We have more important things to deal with! The vampires are just inside there, and we will slay them all!' The priestess punctuated her point by pointing her enchanted mace at the large elaborately decorated double doors right behind a portcullis. 'Tear it down!'

A group of soldiers rushed forward, holding rope while others raised their hands at the door. Once the ropes were tied at key points along the portcullis, they began to pull backwards. The old gates groaned, but still held fast. The mages soon got involved and began hurling fireballs a bit above the key points of the structure. A small group of mages began reached out with telekinetic force and began to pull on at the stone work that the fire balls managed to pry loose.

Razahir and Aela joined the pulling soldiers and Razahir made sure to wrap his arm around his end of the rope. Once it was tightened, he shot Aela a look which she returned before they began to tug when Carcette shouted the command again. Weather it was from their combined efforts, or his and Aela's supernatural strength, this time the gate away and clattered to the ground in a shower of debris.

Soon, they were tearing down the doors with hammers and mauls before they were finally through and inside the castle. As the doors crumbled to the floor, Razahir felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. Immediately, he glanced upwards, his eyes quickly staring back and forth across the face of the castle. His sharp gaze picked up the glowing, orange colored eyes almost hidden away in one of the shadowed windows. His eyes narrowed slightly beneath his helmet before he raised his sword in a salute at the shadowed figure before he marched his way inside.

As soon as he stepped inside, he met Aela, who stood in the small antechamber.

'We're being watched,' said Razahir as a greeting. Aela raised a brow. 'Not sure by who, or if it was the girl from earlier. I've only been smelling vampires since the doors came down and they all smell alike.'

'Well all the vampires are out and about,' she pointed over the balcony. 'Look.'

Razahir noticed that statement was true. The castle had a richly decorated dining hall with a crimson colored rug that lead directly to a throne. The large oak tables flanked the carpet and Razahir felt his lips twist into a frown when he noticed all the mortals that were on the tables in a parody display of a feast. Isran and Carcette were already among them, burning those who already succumbed to their injuries and other were put to the sword to end their agony. As the last one fell, they were all suddenly attacked.

A shimmer and whisper of arcane energy was the only warning they received before they were under attack by dark armored, hissing figures. One of the armored figures charged at Isran, but was repulsed by a brilliant flash of light. A charred corpse was all that was left of the vampire. The leader of the Dawnguard began to swing his weapon back and forth among the dark creatures around him.

He and Aela moved as one. They split apart, each of them taking the adjacent staircase that lead down to the throne room. When they met again, a pair of vampires tried to impede their progress. Both bloodsucker's eyes widened in surprise as they scented the air and opened their mouths to speak. They should have just drawn their weapons. His sword bisected one around the middle while Aela showed the other a close-up view of her buckler and then the taste of her steel.

'Funny when they decide to start trying to speak in a fight,' Razahir rumbled as he stepped over their bodies.

'Vampires have the habit of being melodramatic like that. Come to think of it, the Silver Hand did the same thing,' commented Aela.

Razahir grunted, pulling his sword up. A vampire came flying at him, mace coming straight at his face. He managed to parry aside the blow, but the vampire was agile. He landed in front of him in a crouch and not a moment later he rose, his mace swinging. It smashed into his ribs and Razahir grunted in pain. He immediately counter attacked by swinging his fist at the vampire. The powerful blow almost took off the vampire's head and Razahir speared him a moment later. Two more came after him, one with another mace and the other with a large warhammer.

The first ran up to him, pulling back her mace and Razahir swung in her direction. At the last moment, she went to her knees, sliding beneath his strike and he grunted as the mace crashed into the back of his knee. He stumbled to the stone floor and managed to glance up right as the other vampire brought his hammer down onto him. Razahir managed to lean a bit to the side so the head of the hammer smashed into his pauldron instead of his helmet. His armor creaked, the enchantments along his pauldron flaring brightly, and he scowled, raising his hand.

A magnificent fireball flashed out from his hand, striking the vampire full on. The warhammer clattered to the floor as the vampire screamed in pain. The roar of magical flames soon joined the screaming creature and a pile of ash soon fell to the floor. A choked gurgle echoed behind him and out the corner of his eye, he noticed the mace wielder slump to the carpet, dead.

Aela appeared a moment later, blood dripping from the edge of her sword. She glanced around once before she gently prodded him with her sword. 'Up you get, love. You think Lord Hircine would want to see you on the floor like this?'

Razahir snorted, standing up slowly. He ran a free hand along his armor, scowling when he noticed that it supported a new dent in the material. 'Father will forgive me; I have done enough in his name and sent enough hunters to his realm.' Razahir pulled his hand away from his pauldron. He would have to fix it after this battle with the vampires. 'Where's Isran?'

'Him and Carcette went ahead. The Dawnguard and Vigilants have been slaying the vampires and are still moving forward. I think Isran is looking for the lord of this place.'

Razahir grunted. 'Any sign of the girl?' Aela shook her head and Razahir frowned, thinking back to the watcher in the shadows of the window. Could it have been her, he briefly wondered before pushing the thought away. 'Let us meet up with Isran and Carcette. Who knows what they have come across.' Razahir moved to the staircase that led off from the dining hall. Corpses of vampires and mortals laid slumped against the walls and along the floor. Some sort of canine hybrid thing laid on its side, its jaws locked around a Vigilant's neck. Razahir peered at the doglike creature curiously, noticing that the area around the vigilants neck had turned black. Frostbite, he noted, and stepped over the canine.

They followed the bodies around the castle before they reached a large double door. Emblazed on its front was the snarling visage of Molag Bal once again. Razahir's hackles were immediately raised, and if Aela tensing up at his side showed that she felt it too. This did not look good. He could feel an undercurrent of power emanating from the door, and the gemstones set in the snarling visage appeared to glow. Isran and Carcette were pushing the portal open by the time him and Aela had reached the back of the group of soldiers. With their shields of magic still up, they walked inside the room.

Razahir immediately noticed how quiet the room was the darkness threatened to over whelm them even with Carcette and Isran as twin beacons of the sun. His sharp hearing could not even pick up a hint of sound and he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. The enchantments woven into Terminus only produced faint sparks of lightning. His sharp eyes looked inside the gloom around them, seeing nothing and noticing nothing.

'Show yourselves, leeches!' bellowed Carcette as she waved the head of Pendulum. 'I know you monsters are here! Stendarr's light reveals all and I can taste your sick presence!' After that proclamation, Razahir's eyes immediately moved to an area where twin pools of small molten fire appeared. His eyes glanced around the entire room as more glows of fire appeared. The sound of someone snapping their fingers echoed around the room, and bright light suddenly illuminated the room.

When the flash of the sudden illumination disappeared, Razahir stared around the area in surprise and slowly growing shock.

They stood in an old, decayed cathedral area. Debris and old rotten wood covered the floor of the area. The stone was an old grey and looked like it had not been cleaned in centuries. A few still statues of gargoyles flanked the first tiers of the ground level of the cathedral. Stairs flanked each side of the room and lead up to balcony's. Vampires dressed in elaborate robes and finely crafted armor stood above them, glaring at them with their cold eyes from the galleries. He noticed more of the dog-like monsters that stood above them, growling lowly at the invaders.

In the center of the cathedral stood a shrine dedicated to Molag Bal, the patron of vampires. It shimmered with its own, unworldly light and currently, a mortal was impaled in the cusp of the Daedric Lords horns, blood draining sluggishly into the basin beneath it.

Three figures stood around the shrine, dedicated to the Daedric Lord. Razahir immediately recognized the two women at the right side of the shrine. The girl and the Breton. Both looked no worse for wear, but the small breton was glaring at the woman at her side, her molten eyes burning. The other, her kidnapper, appeared entirely unconcerned with the look she received, her eyes instead focused on him intently.

On the opposite side was undoubted lord of the castle and leader of this vampire coven. He held himself like kings that Razahir had read stories about. Arrogant confident oozed from the man. He facial features were handsome and refined, well groomed without a hair out of place. His eyes were ancient and glowed with dark intent. His outfit was a reinforced combination of royal attire and armor, blood red and rich earthy colors. A well forged, ornate steel blade rested at his side and Razahir noted the pommel was in the shape of Molag Bals face. A smug expression rested on his face and he slowly brought his hands up to clap.

'Well, well, it certainly has been quite sometime since I've had the pleasure of guests within these halls.' He looked them over. 'Especially in the manner of vampire hunters. Normally, they last until they reach the interior halls, but I must say, you all are certainly special to have gotten this far.' His gaze hardened, and he glared at them. 'But I am afraid your time is up. My servants and slaves were strong, but now you will taste the true power of a vampire lord!' With that last word, the man began to float upwards and into the sky above the altar. The vigilants and Dawnguard soldiers that held bows, or knew magic raised their weapons and began to fire at him. The bolts, arrows, and magic were turned aside by a blood red shield that appeared around the man. The lord of the castle chuckled and raised his hands.

The blood from within the shrine rose up and engulfed the man. His body changed and shifted in the embrace of the fluid, becoming malleable as the blood seeped into his skin. Razahir watched with his eyes narrowed at the change. The lord's body became larger and hulking, broadening at the chest and shoulders. His hands and feet elongated grotesquely, becoming tipped with deadly, sharp nails and claws. His skin gained a corpse-grey color and his face became brutal and chiropteran in appearance. Horns graced the former man's head in the parody of a crown and large, bat-like wings grew out of his back, flapping slow and leisurely as the bat-like thing floated above them in his elaborate clothing.

'This! This is the power of gods, mortals! Die!' The monster raised its hands, blood magic brimming at his clawed finger tips. The moment would stay with Razahir for the rest of his life. The blood in the shrine boiled forth, surging upwards into the air and wrapped around the creature. A beam of red magic lanced outwards and cut its way through the Dawnguard and Vigilant soldiers. Carcette and Isran were sent off their feet, their shields blasted out of existence. The girl from the crypt moved forward, her own hands raised. Aela grabbed his arm a shout escaping her lips and then a voice inside his head speaking loudly before darkness engulfed him:

' **Your path does not end here, my son!'**

And this is where we will end it for now. Sorry for the long wait, ladies and gentlemen and the weakness of this chapter. Never realized how badly writers block happened and now, I am slowly, getting back into the flow of things.

I have decided to just go with the flow, so to speak and just get to the endgame of this tale without drawing it out too heavily. Eventually, I will make a rewrite of this entire story because I have realized how… scattered and random some parts of this is and will hopefully get to it later.

For now, I will just try to get a faint understanding and push them out and then fix inconsistencies and all that jazz later.

Happy New Year and sorry about the lateness of the chapter. Cheers!


	17. Shroud Hearth Barrow

Elaninde examined the book in her hands, pouring over its contents with a small frown across her ethereal features. She had read the _Book of the Dragonborn_ in passing ages ago, interested at the time of how the book described the leaders of the Empire: From Saint Alessia who started the first Empire in Cyrodiil to Reman Cyrodiil, the greatest Emperor who had united Tamriel beneath his banner in the First Era, and finally Uriel Septim, the last great Emperor Tamriel had seen in the Third Era before the Empire had fallen into the chaotic mess that it was now. She had skimmed over the small notes about the other Emperors and Empress' that were mentioned, who ever had made this book had marked in it heavily and added their own annotates and side bars to it.

Overall it was good work, but she hated that a book was defiled in such a way.

It took her a moment to realize her fingers were rubbing along the edges of the book and she pulled her hand away with a small sigh. She would have to work on that later.

One of the aspiring monks stepped inside her room, holding a plate of meat and cheese. Elaninde rolled her eyes and promptly called it to her with a telekinetic spell. The plate slipped from the monks, disgruntled features and landed in front of her with a gentle clatter. She raised a brow at the grey robed aspirant and watched as he quickly disappeared through the granite doorway.

She was about to send another spell to the door when she heard the familiar sounds of armored boots on bare stone. She sighed, marked her page in the book, and placed it at the corner of the table before taking the plate one handed and began to dine on her meal.

She counted down mentally in her head from five. She smirked when Lydia stomped into the room as soon as she reached one.

'And the Jarl of Whiterun's daughter graces me with her presence once again.' She said, cheerfully, as the woman stepped inside the room. The woman was still clad in her armor and Elaninde noticed that the steel still had a bit of snow on it. It was already melting in the hot air of her room, but still, it showed just how quickly the noble had sought her out. Elaninde was impressed. The walk from her room to outside was quite long and Lydia must have traveled quickly for that to happen.

The warrior paused as she realized her words and scowled deeply in her direction when her mind processed her words. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Elaninde continued:

'You know, if we were still in Whiterun, I am sure your guards would start to wonder if your visits to me were a bit more… personal in nature,' she watched the young woman as she curiously turned into an interesting shade of red. Elaninde felt the edges of her lips quirk upwards. Lydia made it too easy for her. She had taken many a men and women to her bed through her long life and still one was not greater than the other. If she were feeling a bit more active, she would probably try and pursue the noble in front of her, but immediately dismissed the thought. She respected Balgruuf enough and she would have to ask him just in case things had soured.

She watched as the woman let out a breath and scowl at her. 'Shut up.' She uttered and then was sitting across the table from her. She pulled off her gauntlets and tossed them onto the stone table. A loud _thunk_ reverberated around the room before she crossed her arms over her breastplate.

Elaninde lounged back in the seat, taking a few bites of her food. A blanket of silence had covered the room and the Altmer knew it would not last anytime soon. Sure, enough, a few seconds after the thought entered her mind, the noble warrior spoke up:

'They still have her mediating on the dragon tongue. They say she still has much to learn, but her shouts are still powerful.' At that moment, the floor beneath them trembled and Elaninde flicked her fingers gently at the goblet of water that had started to tip over. Her telekinesis spell managed to keep the water from falling out of the stone goblet.

'Well she is the Dragonborn and we have been here for two weeks already. I would be rather disappointed in the Greybeards if they only taught her a few shouts and then let her leave.' Elaninde said, as she twisted her finger in a gentle circle. The goblet of water righted itself, the water swishing back and forth inside its container, but never dripping over the edge. She noticed Lydia's curious stare as she set it back in place. 'What's on your mind, dear?'

'You have a fine control of your magic. I have never even seen Farengar catch a goblet like that and hold the water in place.'

'Well, I am a master mage and again, I've been alive for thousands of years now. Comes with the experience, I would hope. Court wizards do have control over their magic, but it's usually specialized in a certain school. Farengar for example favors the more elemental school, so I would assume it had something to do with his name sake.'

Lydia inclined her head. 'That is true. I remember on my name days he would always shift the fire into animals and have them parade around Dragonsreach. It was rather pleasant.'

Elaninde chuckled softly. 'Yes, I recall my father would do the same every now and then. Mother used to do the same with ice and water, made a large statue out of my father and put it in the middle of the courtyard of our estate.'

'That's the first, I think I've ever heard you mention your family.' Lydia commented.

Elaninde waved her comment away. 'They're dead now,' she said and frowned at the stricken look that passed over Lydia's face. 'Oh, don't be like that. They lived a long and wonderful life and died in their sleep hundreds of years ago. I can say they died happily and without any pain. Can't say the same for most people, now.'

'It's… just strange how calm you are about it. I don't know how I would react if father died anytime soon.'

Elaninde shook her head. 'For elves, we live so long the years go by in a blink of an eye. Some of it you remember, but other times it feels like it hardly happened. You get used to it at some point and learn to accept it and move on. It sounds cold, but it's the truth.'

'Do you have any siblings?

'No. I had a rather peaceful childhood growing up and any friends I had were in the Academy.'

'Academy?' asked Lydia, staring at her in confusion.

'Consider it like the College of Winterhold, except its for children and you learn about math's, history of the world, social studies excreta, excreta. Didn't make too many friends there however, but it was nice growing up there. I've heard its changed a lot over the years with the rise of the Thalmor.' A small scowl appeared on her face as she said that, her ethereal face darkening.

'This is the first, I have heard you spoke of them.'

'There's not much to say: they're insane in their beliefs. If they really think that the gods will accept them because they decided to wage a religious war on their own followers, they have another thing coming. Fools and imbeciles.'

'What?'

'You didn't know? I would have figured your father would have told you that by now. The Thalmor want elven supremacy so they can corral all the mortal races and then slaughter them all in the name of the gods to achieve apotheosis. If they rule, they will commit mass genocide in the name of their old gods.'

Horror and terror was on the woman's face. Elaninde watched the emotions play across her face in solemn silence.

'That is what makes the Thalmor so dangerous. They believe that and their belief in it makes them a force to be reckoned with. Ulfric is correct about one thing; they must be stopped and the fact that he is bringing in the Dunmer and Redguard people together to get what he wants, who knows what could happen in the future. Oblivion, if he accepts the Beastfolk at some point, he will win Skyrim. Then, it'll just be a matter of time for him to go after the Empire. Only thing, he would have to worry about how the Thalmor will answer him in response.'

'Father does not think so. Ulfric's dogma of Skyrim belongs to the Nords, certainly does turn away a few of the other races from his cause.'

'And yet, he still has a large following in this civil war. He has support in each of the Holds and has the superior numbers and knows the entire providence of Skyrim while the Empire does not. The Empire does not know any of the old paths, like the Stormcloaks do: they can get around Skyrim in a lot less time than the Empire. They are decently equipped and with the business of dragons around in the sky and the added part of the Graybeards calling the Dragonborn, the war will last even longer.'

Lydia frowned. 'How do you know so much about this? Only someone who's fought in a war would know what that entails.'

'I've been in a few wars and skirmishes myself, Lydia. I've seen and lived through almost every single conflict in the Second Era onwards. I've seen the devastation wrought out onto the very landscape when thousands of the boots of soldier's march across the land. Its terrible and disturbing to watch as armies leave the destruction behind them in – say – an isolated village so far in the boonies.' Elaninde's mind flashed back to the small village they had stumbled across in one of the campaigns of wars she had been it. The details were still fresh inside her mind because of her memory and she recalled the rape and devastation the Thalmor had wreaked on the town. She shivered as the old memories of the lifeless eyes of villagers left alive and the burned husks of the men, women, and children they had stumbled across. The Thalmor did not deserve any mercy and in the next skirmish, they had crossed, they had made sure to slay the monsters down to the last man.

She flexed her fingers slowly, calming her thoughts. 'It's horrible, Lydia, and I really hope you never live to see it.'

Before Lydia could speak, another voice interrupted them. 'Well, I certainly choice an interesting time to pop in. Never knew we were going for a depressing subject.' Valeka strolled inside the room. The Nord wore a simple rough spun robe and shoes. She was weaponless, and an aura of calm surrounded the woman. She slipped into a chair and glanced back and forth between the pair: 'what exactly did I miss?'

'Old war stories,' Elaninde dismissed with a wave of her hand. 'along with the greed of the races of Tamriel in general.' She looked over the woman. 'And yourself? How does the training with the Greybeards go?'

Valeka leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms across her chest. 'Not too bad. Apparently, we're finally free to go. They've taught me all they could and want me to find some sort of horn.'

A look of rapture passed across Lydia's face. 'Finally?! I've been waiting to leave this place for ages now.'

Valeka smiled, inclining her head. 'Aye, the Greybeards said we are free to leave whenever we wish. Our destination is Ustengrav – deep in the swamps of Morthal to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller.'

'The founder of the Greybeards, huh? Sounds like quite the quest.' Elaninde stood and moved to her bags, pulling out a map. She flattened it on the table, spreading out the creases with her palm. She looked it over and chuckled softly as she noticed the looks Lydia and Valeka held. They had used Valeka's new map on the path to High Hrothgar, but hers was already filled out with almost the entire providence of Skyrim. 'I get around,' she commented before she pointed out Ustengrav on the map. 'I've been there before. We'll have to go on foot back down to Ivarstead and then we can take a carriage to Whiterun or go the way by foot. I suggest we resupply ourselves in both Ivarstead and Whiterun and then resupply once again in Morthal. If anything, we can take the time and rest in Whiterun and Morthal before heading out once more.'

Valeka loomed over the map, looking over it curiously, her gaze traveling this way and that before she nodded her head. 'With winter along its way, I can see why we have to resupply so much. I need to speak with Balgruuf in Whiterun, so that's a respite if anything. We will go through Ivarstead and Morthal, quickly, however.'

'Sounds like a plan. We may even come across the Harbinger in Morthal. Remember, he went on his mission in the general area of that place.' Lydia chimed in.

'Perhaps, but very doubtful. That man has the single-minded focus of getting things done, that I wonder how Aela puts up with him at times.' Elaninde smirked. 'We can keep an eye out, however. I suppose we can see how his own quest is going when we visit your father.' Lydia nodded her head.

'Good. Then by first light tomorrow, we will head back down the mountain, supply in Ivarstead and then head back to Whiterun.' Valeka said, lightly tracing her finger tips over Ustengrav on Elaninde's map.

The way back down from High Hrothgar was entirely uneventful. With the demise of the den of trolls, the passage was safe. The only other forms of life they had encountered were other pilgrims and seekers of the Way of the Voice. Valeka never turned the seekers aside and made sure to greet the pilgrims along the way. Elaninde and Lydia found themselves grinning at the ease the young woman showed when it came to greet the travelers. They wondered what would happen if they knew that the young woman who greeted them was the Dragonborn, herself.

Now that they knew the path, they completed the way back down the mountain in half the time even with the slowly approaching winter season. This deep in the fall and high into the mountain, snow slowly began to fall from the sky as they journeyed across the mountain.

They arrived back in Ivarstead on the 17th of Frostfall, late in the afternoon of Middas. Already, Magnus had retreated to the horizon and stars were slowly starting to glimmer in the distance. A gentle snow was slowly falling onto the village and Elaninde made sure to keep the hood of her cloak up and wrapped securely around her. She had felt the chill of the winter air farther up north and did not doubt that the chill could travel this far south.

Lydia and Valeka were completely unconcerned with such weather. Their cloaks were open and let in the gentle breeze. Elaninde did not want to know how Lydia moved around in her heavy steel armor. She had touched cold armor before in her youth and shivered in remembrance of the steel on her bare skin.

The main street was almost empty with only a few stragglers here and there. Old man Klimmek was hobbling down the main street and they flagged him down. The old man looked rather tense when they reached him.

'Travelers!' he greeted with a tight grin. Elaninde had the faint sense of déjà vu and shook her head. 'How was the journey? Its been ages since I've seen a hair, or hide from either of you, I hope the journey was well?'

'It was, sir. Managed to drop the food off and the Greybeards wanted me to thank you. They appreciate all the work you do.' said Valeka.

The old man seemed to deflate, the tension leaving his body. 'It gladdens me to hear that. Thank you again, travelers,' he reached into a small satchel along his belt and produced a pouch. The jingle as the contents of the pack moved signaled that it was coin. 'Here; take this as my thanks.' He all but forced the pouch into Valeka's hands before he hobbled off with a thankful good bye.

Elaninde whistled as she glanced inside the pouch. 'That's quite the sum, especially from an old man.' Gold, silver, and copper pieces were all inside that little bag. Quite the hefty sum, all things considered. She looked back up at the retreating man. 'I wonder if he was an adventurer in his prime?'

'Possible,' Lydia commented as she stared at him. 'He does have the build of one.'

Valeka chuckled and closed the pouch, placing it on her belt. 'Well then, I say we put this to some use then. I could use some food and a drink.'

Elaninde agreed and the three made their way to the inn. Ivarstead was quiet this early in the morning and had not changed much in the tome they spent at the monastery. It was a bit colder, perhaps, but overall, the atmosphere of the small village was almost the same.

The interior of the inn was crowded. Valeka made her way deeper while Elaninde and Lydia searched for a table. They passed their way through the crowd, quickly and carefully walking by the tables and chairs and servers and patrons. They found a table far in the back of the inn and took their seats, Elaninde taking the seat so her back was against the wall. She had a perfect view of the door and tapped a few fingers on the table. Lydia pulled off her gauntlets and set them down on the table, flexing her fingers slowly. A comfortable silence took hold of the pair as they waited for Valeka to arrive.

The Dragonborn joined them after a few moments, a small frown on her face. She sat stiffly, her jaw working soundlessly.

'Are you going to say what's bothering you, or just sit there scowling at the table? I know its not that sturdily constructed, but I've used worse.' Elaninde arched her brow carefully.

'Trouble,' Valeka responded. 'Apparently, there's been some problems up at the barrow. Draugr have been creeping into the town. Found a few of them dead in the morning a few days ago.'

Elaninde frowned at that. That did not sound like Draugr. 'What do you mean? Draugr don't come out of their holes. Valeka. It's just not… normal.'

'What do you mean?' she asked, glancing between her and Lydia. The noble had her own look of disbelief on her face and she ran a hand across her face and up into her hair.

'They're cursed, Valeka. After the Dragon Cultists were broken when the first dragons fell, they committed mass ritual suicide to preserver the lifeforce of their Dragon Priests. They became immortal, the priests, and their followers as well. They never leave their barrows, to protect the dragon priests that rule over them even in death.'

Valeka frowned. 'Well, whatever it is, something is causing them to become free to wander outside. I want to check and see what it is, exactly.'

Elaninde shrugged her shoulders. 'That's fair. I suppose a little barrow diving wouldn't hurt. Who knows, we could find something valuable in there.'

Shroud Hearth Barrow was a dark and quiet place. Elaninde had heard about the place in the inn. After they had ate their fill at the inn, she had a conversation with the innkeeper about the place. A rambling dark elf sought out the treasure of the place and disappeared inside the place for a year. Wilhelm had thought the dark elf had been slain by the draugr, and the place was haunted by his restless spirit and had all but warned everyone away from the place. Eventually, another adventurer came along and made the journey inside the place and she had a hard time believing what Wilhelm explained next.

The elf had haunted the place… in some sort spirit form. Using an alchemic concoction, he had managed to turn himself into a ghost-like being scared off anyone who had defied Wilhelm's warning. Elaninde had almost not believed it, until the old man had pulled out a ratty journey and she had devoured its contents. She had been stunned and surprised at the elf's cunning and made sure to write down the brew he made. She would have to try to recreate such a mixture and test it at the college.

Wilhelm also explained – sheepishly – that he knew of the claw the man was raving about in his journal and pulled out a claw. She immediately knew what the claw was. She had encountered enough of them in her journeys through Skyrim and knew that they unlocked areas that lead deeper into the Nordic ruins. She had one stashed away at the college. The claw itself was a gaudy thing and crafted out of coral and coated with some sort of metal. Someone had taken the time to make the thing and it had some sentimental value to it.

The one she had none was far more exquisite. This one had been crafted almost entirely from sapphire and marble. The nuggets that made up the three claws of the dragon still had shine to it. She considered adding it but decided against it. She would let Valeka hang onto it.

The crypt had signs of recent disturbance. The draugr inside had awakened and were scattered around the place. Elaninde blasted their corpses with fire just in case while Lydia finished the others off with a few careful swings of her sword. Other than that, they hardly found anything that was a threat.

'Well that's nice and ominous.' Elaninde commented. The door that lead deeper into the barrow was open and they stood in the threshold of the door. The very first room held an old table. 'Guess we will not be needing this then.' She handed Valeka the claw. When she tried to protest, she shook her head.

'Hold onto it. I have one of my own and it's a rather nice piece to have in your own home.'

'You've been inside one of these before?'

Elaninde nodded. 'Yngol's Barrow. Not too bad of a place. Razahir was rather irritable when he found that out. Yngol was the son of the founder of the Companions and when he found out I had the helm, he was rather… unbearable. Gave it to him in the end, but it was fun watching the man squirm the entire time.'

Lydia snorted. 'That I would pay to see, but we have work to do, don't we?'

Elaninde nodded and, together, the three stepped inside the room, slowly examining their surroundings. A passage to their left made them move along and they found themselves in a hall with five opened sarcophagi. The portcullis that led into the room slammed close and another closing echoed around the room. The five draugr turned toward them as soon as the booming noise finished.

A fireball exploded in the middle of the three that were standing near a raised dais. A conflagration exploded in between the three and they were sent in all directions. Lydia and Valeka broke off from her, weapons raised as they charged their foes. The two were in sync as they hacked down the draugr: Lydia with her sword and Valeka with her axe. Elaninde marched further down the hall, a lighting bolt lancing out from her hand and it struck the slowly rising draugr, vaporizing the undead body.

Lydia moved the lever that opened the door. As they crossed the room, Valeka stepped on something she did not see. One moment she was there, the next there was a loud splash and she was in the water. Elaninde immediately moved to the trap door, looking into the murky water. Lydia was already at the lip of the trap, reaching into it with her free hand. Elaninde raised her hands and pulled with her magicka. A tug rewarded her and out came Valeka, sputtering as she was raised out of the water.

She spat out a mouthful of the foul water, gagging.

'Thanks for that.' She gasped out.

Elaninde inclined her head, waving her hands at the young woman. 'Sorry, never thought we would encounter something like this. Here.' She touched the woman on the shoulder and sent out her cocktail of protection and warding spells. She did the same for Lydia and then cast them on herself.

As she investigated the water, she noticed a flicker of something in its depths. She frowned and reached out with her magicka. She felt another tug and pulled with a mental command. From out of the depths came a greatsword and she tilted her head as she looked it over. The weapon was made from finely crafted steel and enchanted with something she could not quite place. She handed it to Lydia.

'Greatswords aren't my thing. I'm sure you'll have a much better use for it. Its enchanted, so it should be better than what you're using.' She said.

Lydia thanked her and sheathed her sword, placed her shield on the webbing of her back and lifted the sword effortlessly. She gave it a few test swings before she nodded her head. 'This will do nicely. You have my thanks.'

Elaninde helped Valeka to her feet and they continued into the next room with the winding stairs. They went up and once they were on the second level, they continued upward. They reached a door that Elaninde blew off the hinges with a fireball and looked at the contents inside.

'Wrong door,' she grumbled as Valeka looked around. She grabbed a few of the valuable items and looted the chest that was inside the room after breaking the lock with a swing of her mace.

'I guess this place does have some treasure.' She said, pocketing the contents of the trunk. They left when they were finished looting and went back down a flight of stairs.

She opened the door with the same method as before and stepped inside. The pressure plate activated, and she heard a hiss of pressured air. Her protective spells flared brightly – nullifying, or flat out stopping – the darts that tried to breech her armor. When the darts stopped, she raised a brow in the direction of the darts and shook her head. 'Primitive.' She commented and continued along the path. They reached a staircase with a trap at the base of it. She grabbed a chunk of rock and tossed it at the trap and landed on it perfectly.

The trap activated around the corner and she watched in surprise as a pile of bones flew into the nearby wall. Lydia and Valeka chuckled at the display.

'Boneheads…'

They continued down the stairs and stepped down the path, shaking their heads at the attempt of an ambush by the lone skeleton. The next door opened into a room with a large open balcony. More draugr and skeletons met them in this room and they were taken out easily by a fireball spell. Before the flames had finished dying, they were already looking around the room and Lydia found the handle that opened the way to the next room.

They stepped inside the newly revealed path and found themselves hidden behind a wooden bulwark. The bulwark had a hole in the middle of it that revealed a group of skeletons standing around in a circular depression that was filled with oil. She snorted and raised a fingertip. A small ball of fire darted from her fingertip and danced around in the air. With a gesture of her finger, the flame raced through the air. It zigzagged back and forth through the air and rose. Hanging over the oil slick was a group of ceramic jars with a small fire blazing inside of them. The flame darted across the lines that held the oil lamps and burned through them before falling with the jars.

The roar of flames was accompanied by a blast of heat. She felt her hair tossed back slightly and ran a hand through her dark, silky strands. 'Boneheads.' She agreed and Lydia and Valeka chuckled. The remains of the room provided some resources, but overall was entirely empty. Their careful exploration produced no results and soon they were exiting – downstairs – into another room. Draugr and skeletons tried to fight them but were easily repulsed; their corpses were burned to ashes, or vaporized with her spells, making sure that they would not be rising again.

Their continued plunge into the ruins continued in that same way. All the draugr and skeletons they encountered were outsmarted and they looted the room. Elaninde slowly grew bored of the entire process, briefly, wondering if their goal would end up being worthwhile. The key they acquired from a dead draugr provided them entrance to a submerged part of the ruin along with a sword of ebony make. They would have to distribute their loot among each later. Ebony was a rare material after the mines in Morrowind dried up and would sell for quiet the amount of coin.

She blasted back the draugr in the next room with a push of her closed fist. Before it could get up, Lydia had charged forward and swept out with her new blade. The blade of the greatsword flashed as the enchantments on it lit up and shocked the revenant to undeath once again. She burned the corpse as well and curious looked over the totems that were in the room. Her sharp mind connected the dots for the previous rooms totem control and she issued out the code for Valeka to solve.

The Dragonborn's shout of glee echoed through the tomb and Elaninde chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. She and Lydia stepped back inside the room and saw Valeka standing on a pressure plate that had lowered the wooden bridge that led deeper inside the barrow. A draugr charged at them from the other side of the bridge. Valeka – back facing the foe – had not seen the revenant yet.

She raised her hand to shout a warning, but the Dragonborn spun on her heel, quickly and swiftly, mace raised and slamming into the draugr's chest. It was downed by the momentum of the blow and the Nord bashed its skull in with a downward strike of her mace. She kicked it off the bridge.

'Not bad.' Lydia commented, lowering the enchanted sword.

Valeka shrugged, thanking her, and then made her way across the bridge. Lydia and Elaninde followed her and into a throne room. The items from the long dead king went into their bags and they continued after avoiding an obvious trap. A gold ingot had sat on a pressure plate, but with her magic, it had easily ended up in her hands, and then her bag, well after the fire traps flames were extinguished.

They returned to the main passage and avoided more traps before they found themselves in front of a door. The door was already open and inside the room they found a sight that made Elaninde's skin crawl.

The room was a large, three-tiered great hall. Sarcophagi lined the main path of the room and two sat higher than the others on twin raised levels of the room. A grand pool of water sat on the edges of the chamber, being fed with twin waterfalls that flanked each side of the back wall of the room. Some sort of irrigation system allowed the room not to flood and the waters were still and silent with the occasional ripple across its surface.

What caused her such discomfort was the undead floating in the middle of the room. It wore an elaborately decorated robe in the shape of dragon scales and was heavily etched with draconic motifs. A staff with a snarling dragon as its head, sat comfortably in its right hand and the two amethyst that made up its eyes glowed. The draugr eye's glowed with a sinister blue light that put the other draugr to shame. The dragon priest raised its hand in their direction, magicka glowing in its palm.

Her own hand came up, the lighting spell crashing against the fire spell in a bright burst of arcane light. As soon as the beams of magicka touched, she realized that the priest was as strong as her. Perhaps, a bit stronger, she admitted. Even with her enchanted gear supplying her with enough magicka reserves to last for weeks, the being in front of her was ancient and strong and whatever enchantments that were woven into him, or what ever rituals it had used before its death were powerful. She quickly assessed her conditions.

Lydia and Valeka would probably be not much of a help. They pair were busy with their own troubles.

When the priest engaged her, it had begun some sort of chain reaction. The coffins surrounding them all burst open with loud, echoing cracks. Their occupants slowly stepped out and making their way to Lydia and Valeka. They ignored her. One had tried to strike her down in passing, but the scream of the Dragon Priest had cowed the undead and he had scurried by her, ignoring her like the rest.

Interesting, but also a distraction.

The sound of fighting echoed around her and she focused completely on the dragon priests spell that was getting dangerously closer to her. She reached inside of herself, desperately, and touched her magical reserves. Her own magic flared brightly in response as she sent more power into the spell. She added her free hand, expelling more of her magic into the spell. The beam grew closer to the unconcerned priest.

It let out a sinister chuckle and added its staff to help power the spell. She felt the full onslaught of the power of the staff and cursed. That blasted thing was powerful, a lot more, powerful than she would think. And powerful than her. She reached out with her hand, quickly snagged a casket lid and tossing it at the draugr priest. It smashed into the priest, sending the monster to the ground with an enraged yell. With the spell broken, she ducked aside, flinging her spells behind her at the surge of undead that still fought with her companions and ducked behind a casket.

She reached for her sword, freeing it from its sheath. Dauntless rang along the metal and she gripped the hilt tightly. She sent out another blast of lighting magicka, striking the chest of an approaching draugr death lord. The death lord fell to a knee and in one smooth, standing motion, she sliced its head off. She flung a bolt of lighting at the back of a draugr that was attacking Valeka before she turned to face the priest.

The monster was floating toward her and she narrowed her eyes at the monster, rushing toward it. The undead thing raised its hand to fire a volley of spells at her. Fire and ice magic in bright displays of arcane might flew toward her. She ducked and weaved aside to avoid the blasts of energy, and one she had to shoulder roll her way by. When she came up, a bolt of fire managed to hit her. Luckily, it wasn't her chest and only her right shoulder. Her robes protected some of the assault the enchantments worked into the fabric offering the same protection as her armor, but the power of the spell drained her (already depleting) magical reserves. If she had not realized how much the thing was a threat, that spell just reinforced the opinion. She had to end this fight quickly.

Dauntless in hand, she rushed at the lich, her armored feet clanking across the floor. The undead sent a blast of magicka at her which she rolled aside to avoid, jumped onto the lid of the casket and sprang off after a quick bend of her knees. She took Dauntless into a two-handed grip at the apex of her jump, a yell escaping her lips as she came down at the draugr.

The glowing eyes locked onto hers and the draugr's staff came up. The gemstones that made up its eyes glowed and she realized her mistake. An arcane blast erupted out of the maw of the dragon and blasted her out of the air.

The last thing she could recall was pain along her back and then darkness.


	18. Solitude

Solitude

* * *

 **'Well met, hunter**.'

'Father?' Razahir questioned. The giant awakened. He noted that his surroundings had changed from the dark cathedral into a cliff overlooking dense woodlands and vast grassland. Even from such a far distance away, he knew that the landscape around him was full of animals, creatures, and monsters larger than their counterparts on Nirn. Faintly, he could hear them in the background of noise around him. The raised voices of primal creatures on the hunt, or the bleating of the hunted.

He remembered the first time he had awakened in the Hunting Grounds, ages ago. He had been a child, or something more than a child. Hircine had described him as a man in a boy's body and had taken him under his wing. Under the tutelage of the Lord of the Hunt, he had grown strong and powerful and knowledgeable on the realms of Oblivion. Then he had been dropped back into Nirn by order of his father to help warriors.

He had ignored the presence behind him for only a second to gaze at the Hunting Grounds before he faced the Lord of the Hunt. Even as his eyes landed on him, he felt his perceptions distort, refusing to hold onto one image of the otherworldly being in front of him. It cycled between a large, white majestic stag, to a bright ball of shifting light, to an amalgam of man and beast, each more monstrous and deadlier than the last, and then a hulking man with the head of a deer, before resolving into the way Razahir comfortably viewed him.

A giant slightly larger than himself. His chest was tattooed with various beasts and creatures, and a spear was held in his left hand, proudly displayed and glowing with magical light. A pelt of a sabre lion kept his modesty hidden from view and his feet were covered in leather boots. His face was dark and handsome, his white teeth sharp and refined to points. He stood tall and proud, his eyes glowing with the power of a god.

The Daedric Lord glanced down at himself with a cool gaze. **'This form still, my son? I thought you had gotten over such… concepts of morality when it came to dealings with me.'** The voice had a faint hint of annoyance to it.

The Harbinger shook his head slowly. 'I haven't. I am still human even with your blood running through my veins, father.' Razahir glanced at his hands, looking at them with a small frown. He slowly formed them into fists. 'Is it wrong to view you as my father, since you were the one who raised me?'

The Lord shook his head, slowly. **'No, I suppose not. But those are the thoughts of mortal, not the thoughts of a Daedra. Two different and entirely alien things. I have dozens of sons and daughters, creations that have been made in my imagine and yet, none of them have the same convection as you. They have all fallen to some mortal, or another, except for you. You have gone above and beyond such expectations and even those touched by the Aedra may fall to your claws.'**

'Thank you, father,' the giant bowed his head. His gaze turned thoughtful, turning in inwards. His eyes turned downward, thinking of various things.

' **And yet, something bothers you as well. What is it**?' The Daedric Lords deep voice, resonated through the air causing him to look up.

'Your favor, I would like to know why I have not received it yet.'

The Lord of the Hunt stared at him, fully, looking him over. His features, almost a match for his own were entirely alien and unnatural. The Daedric Lord continued to stare at him for almost an eternity before he spoke again. ' **My… favor…. You have already been granted it. All you must do is look inwards, I am sure that you have noticed the change comes easier to you. You and your huntress are a pair of my strongest subjects, my favorite son and daughter, arm in arm, together, but not unequal... and yet you want more. Good.** ' The Daedric Prince shook his head. **'But that is not the reason I have called you to my realm. You have gotten yourself into quite the situation: my brother's subjects and the religious fanatics of my cousins. You certainly leave no room for expectations.'** The Lord of the Hunt looked away and toward the dense forests and vast grasslands over the cliff. He leaned on his magical spear, his face morphing into a frown. Thunder crackled ominously over the vast grasslands and rain began to pour in the distance. ' **Your physical form is injured now. My brothers champion is a rather strong priest and has been at this for eons now. That spell he hit you with is a rather crafty piece of magic. You are lucky that his daughter and I stepped in while we could. That spell would have killed you outright if it wasn't for her and I. Lucky enough, it appears she likes you.'**

'What?'

The Lord of the Hunt smirked in his direction and the thunder receded. **'Yes, the girl you met in the tomb. A servant of my brother… she has some sort of fondness for you and your huntress. I never thought I would see it. As of now, they're both taking treating your injuries.'** The Lord of the Hunt tilted his head curiously, a small grin passing across his face. Razahir watched the gods face twist this way and that, alien expressions disappearing and reappearing in an instant. **'That could work…'** the god whispered to himself before he faced him once again and straightened to his full height. **'You will find the artifacts you seek in Falkreath, my son. Go there when you have the time and you will have earned the gift you seek. Hurry along now, you never know who else seeks it out. The girl – the vampire will help you out on your quest. Do be nice to her and do not let those religious fanatics get their paws on her. She'll be an interesting ally to you in the coming days, keep her close and protect her and your huntress.'** The Lord of the Hunt gave him one last look before he jumped off the edge of the cliff. As he descended, he turned into something truly monstrous and deadly. The only thing he his mind could comprehend was two massive wings before the god disappeared.

Razahir tried to call out to the Lord of the Hunt before he was grasped by something and hurled away from the Hunting Grounds.

* * *

He opened his eyes to the land of the living once more. It was a simple, yet slightly disorienting process. Immediately, his sensitive sense of smell was assaulted by the smell of the sea. His ears could hear gentle, lapping of water on rocks and the faint cry of gulls in the distance. His eyes opened slowly, gazing upwards at the overcast sky. Two faces swam into focus at the edges of his vision. The familiar, comforting features of Aela and the face of the vampire.

Both were looking at him with concern. He smiled at the pair and leaned up slowly. Aela helped him, using her body as something for him to rest on. When he was sitting up fully, he looked up and down the shoreline, they sat on. His gaze paused when it landed on a heavily wounded Isran and Carcette. The pair were covered head to toe in bandages and from what he could smell, salves. They only wore a few articles of their former clothing, and their weapons sat in a pile nearby them.

'What happened?'

'We were defeated.' Aela answered. 'Not sure how, but whatever powers that priest used, destroyed the rest of the Vigilants and Dawnguard soldiers. Only we're left.'

'How? I remember being struck, but after that.' He shook his head.

'I can explain that.' The vampire piped up. She looked rather awkward and out of place among the pair. She was hooded and curiously, he noticed that the sun did not appear to affect the woman. Strange. 'I saved you. My magic is not as strong as my father's, but I still remember a few old tricks my mother taught me. I was able to ward off some of my magic, but, well, the results are clear enough. Your… friends will be out of commission for a while, and I'm surprised that you're up. Even a bit of that magic touching you should have been a lot more devastating.'

'I had a bit of help there. My father, he stepped in before whatever magic your father used.' Aela glanced at him sharply and he shook his head. 'It's alright, love. The vampire can know a few out secrets, she's already proven herself trustworthy for saving my life.' The vampire glanced between them carefully. 'My father is Hircine, the Lord of the Hunt; not the real father, of course, but close enough. He worked a bit of his own magic, I can't tell you what, but whatever it is worked against your father's spell.' He stood up carefully, Aela helping him. 'How about you? Did you get injured?'

Aela shook her head. 'You pushed me out of the way when I grabbed you and took on most of the blast. The vampire and I have been looking over all of you.'

'My name is Serana.'

'Serana and I have been looking over all of you. No vampires have come yet, but I have a feeling they will soon.'

'Very possible. My father and his servants will be after me. He'll want to know why I am doing this and will probably be after the scroll.'

'The Elder Scroll, right?' Razahir questioned.

'Yes, don't worry, it's in a safe place. My father's servants won't be able to find it.'

'You sound rather sure of that.'

'I am.' She simply responded with and did not explain anymore.

'Very well. Where's my armor and sword?' Razahir question, looking around. Aela frowned.

'Your armor was destroyed when the blast struck you.' Serana answered. 'It looked to be quite the set, I'm sorry for your loss.'

Razahir frowned at that. It was an impressive suit. One of the best pieces of armor he had forged for his own personal use, but it had been old. He had had it for years now, and it had old enchantments worked into it, one he had utilized when he had started working metal. Now, he could make a new suit perhaps, one out of something stronger, sterner material….

Perhaps… he ended that thought, getting distracted by the thought of his new armor. 'Is Terminus still around then?'

He almost teared up when he saw the remnants of his personally crafted sword. The blade had been broken and cracked in several different places and half of the top had been shorn off. It was a testament to his skill that the blade still had the glow of enchantment and as he took the weapon into his hand, he felt the old power inside of it whisper to life. Too much use, it would break, but for now… it would work.

He ran a thumb along the cracked blade of his weapon, looking at his reflection along the weapon. His dark, finely formed features were twisted into a frown and he wiped his face of the expression. He nodded to his image and placed the blade at his side.

'We should get a move on then. We can make out the way to Solitude and then hire a carriage there that will take us to Whiterun. Not sure if we should rest a bit in Solitude and then get a move on to Whiterun, or Morthal.'

'I say we take that rest break there.' The vampire spoke up. Razahir stared in her direction. 'Well, I assume you are taking me with you.' She explained, crossing her arms and smirking in his direction. Someone will have the carry those two and I can do that easily.' To prove her point she raised her hand and purple light began to emanate from her hand. With the sound of glass breaking, she summoned a small squad of skeletons. The vampire waved her hand and two of the bone men broke apart: their remains flew into the air, twisting and twirling around each other before reforming into a parody of a stretched-like object. The remaining skeletons – gently – deposited the injured warriors onto the stretched that fit the pair comfortably.

'Impressive,' he rumbled, looking at the object of interest. 'I would have never guessed magic could be used in such a way.'

'When you have lived this long – you end up picking up a few things.' The vampire stated.

Aela ran her hand across her chin. 'Oh, one of those types. You're going to be a pleasure to be around. She sounded exactly like Elaninde.'

'I agree,' Razahir chuckled. 'The journey to Whiterun is certainly going to be interesting.'

The vampire looked back and forth between the pair before she shook her head. 'I suppose we should get this tale along the way? Two religious fanatics and three daedric worshippers all on a journey together sound like the terrible beginning of a song.'

* * *

They reached Solitude within a few days.

They traveled far within that time. Instead of hiking through the mountains, they snagged a boat in a nearby village and sailed to the city. He had seen no fleet of ships at Castle Volkihar, and the ship they had acquired was capable of deep water sailing, so they encountered no problems as they sailed.

Razahir was finding that he enjoyed the vampire's company. She was an interesting woman: she had lived for quite some time. He had been surprised to learn that she had been born sometime in the First Era. The exact timeframe was unsure, but it was way before Cyrodiil was the seat of an empire which easily made her at least five thousand years old.

Her family was one of the first Atmorans to land in Skyrim from the shores of their homeland of Atmora. Noble blood ran through her veins, her father, and mother, an offshoot of two old ancient bloodlines. She explained that they were not as famous as the first High Kings of Skyrim, but her family was of noble lineage. Her family had been in the various social circles before, but that had turned to a private affair during the last few years for the young woman's life and the reason for the secrecy was that her father had turned his attention onto daedric worship to extend their lifespan.

And that was when her happy life had disappeared, and her family broke.

She explained that her father had slowly turned into a different man with the daedric worship. He had tried every measure to extend his lifespan and when he had found the way to do so by becoming a vampire, he had taken his family along with the ride. A ritual later and the sacrifice of thousands upon thousands of lives on Molag Bal's summoning day granted the man his desire. He did not need to put two and two together to understand why Serana referred to the ritual as being 'degrading'. Molag Bal's titles explained away just what may be degrading in such a ritual and he had made sure to read up on the first vampire that Bal had created.

Lemae Beolfag's tale was one of dark tragedy and just what could happen if a brutal Daedric Prince got once hands on a mortal.

With the ritual and Harkon now a full vampire lord, he had begun to horde power to himself and then he stumbled across the prophecy: a way for vampires to walk among the mortals by blocking out the sun. Insanity at its finest. Razahir had privately thought and Serana voiced it. Did her father not realize just what would happen if the vampires did manage to block out the sun. Sure, they could hunt during the day and kill all they could and feed, but it would not last long. Without the sun, the crops would die off first then the fauna, and then the people. During that, all the people of Tamriel would rise and war would most likely take over the entire world, hurting anyone, or anything who would think up of doing such a thing. Hell, vampires would probably be blamed first just because it was the sun getting blotted out of the sky. Massacres and slaughter by the thousands would happen and Nirn would be an empty place after that. He would have to make sure that did not happen.

Serana and her mother began plotting together in secret, thinking of ways to put a stop to her father's plan and that had ended with Serana inside that tomb. He did not bother commenting on the part about the bitterness when she spoke of her mother. He and Aela would speak with her when it got to that point, and no later. No reason to prod the woman right after she went into a self-imposed exile.

'I've never seen so many ships all in one place.' Serana's voice was filled with awe as they sailed into Solitude's harbor. Razahir glanced back to the still waters of the Sea of Ghosts.

Solitude's great harbor was almost overflowing with the Empire's finest vessels. Massive war galleys were at port in the harbor, transporting goods and soldiers back and forth onto their decks. The Imperial Dragon, proudly, decorated most of the banners and masts of the ships, showing their allegiance to the Empire. Razahir recalled a time when the harbor was an empty place and only the East Empire Trading Company's ships were in the harbor. How the times changed….

'It looks like Tullius managed to receive the requisition he wanted after all.' Aela commented. Razahir inclined his head, silently. The giant stood at the back of the small boat, a massive oar in his hands.

'Balgruuf will want to know of this.' Razahir rumbled, looking at the fleet in front of him. Instead of guiding the boat to the main docks, he continued to the shadow of the great archway.

'Why are we disembarking here?' asked Serana. Razahir leaped out the boat, splashing into the shallow waters. The giant sloshed around the water, grabbing the bow of the dingy and pulled it farther along the shore.

'Consider this a 'just in case' situation.' Razahir rumbled, as he pulled the dingy out the water. 'Solitude and Whiterun have rather… tense relations recently. There's no telling just what the populace thinks of us.' The giant Redguard stated.

'Razahir has the bad habit of being slightly paranoid.' Aela said as she stepped out of the boat. The water sloshed around her as well and she glanced at their surroundings. Her gaze left nothing unturned before she glanced toward the small path that leads beneath the arch and to the city.

'It's saved our lives a few times, love.' He said as Serana followed her example and stood on the shore. Razahir rifled through the small boat, gathering their meager items and Isran and Carcette. The pair were still in a comatose state, and Serana said she had placed them in a healing coma with a potion she managed to brew from the supplies they had acquired in the small village where they got their boat. The vampire mentioned that they would be in such a state until they healed fully and if she managed to get stronger ingredients, then the process would be faster. Razahir had nodded his understanding: Alchemy was still a subject he understood, but hardly ever used, however, with Serana around and her vastly superior knowledge, perhaps he could acquire a far deeper understanding of it. 'Remember when the Silver Hand ambushed us? If it wasn't for that cleverly placed wagon, we would have been up to our neck in those bastards.'

'As if they were a challenge in the first place,' said Aela, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him pointedly. Razahir smirked in response.

'True, but it was there and that is the point.' Razahir lifted Isran over his shoulder and Aela snagged a much smaller Carcette, securing her across her own shoulder. Serana glanced back and forth between the pair, slowly shaking her head. 'We should probably get these two into a bed, however. All this movement is probably aggravating their wounds and they will need all the rest they can. Whiterun is still half a providence away, and I'd rather us be around allies in case your father's men come after us.'

'The Harbinger of the Companions is not liked in Solitude?' questioned Serana. 'Such a strange thing to hear… Ysgramor and his Companions were some of the founding fathers of the Atmoran rule in Skyrim and I remember seeing a few of his descendants at that time. The parades they held in Windhelm were amazing.'

'It must have been quite the experience.' Razahir responded as he made his way up the path. His companions followed him, keeping a few steps behind his much longer stride. They reached a bridge that arched above a grotto that held the East Empire Trading Company's goods and the ships of their highly influential clients. Serana took in the site of one such magnificent ship that slowly sailed out of the cove.

'That's a new one.' Aela commented as she glanced at the hull and banners that decorated the ship. 'Imperial craftsman with a hint of… Valenwood influence. An impressive piece of work, I must say. Wonder who commissioned such a thing.'

'No telling who, but it is a nice piece. Could be improved here, or there, but overall the ship maker should be commended for such work.' Razahir commented with a glance.

As they reached the other end of the arch and traveled further up the path, they began to encounter people. Imperial soldiers marching and chatting among themselves and other squads of soldiers as they marched by; the regular citizens gave the soldiers as much room as they could, awe and admiration on their faces. All the races of Tamriel and those loyal to the Empire, or Aldmeri Dominion carried goods up and down the massive wooden stairs that lead to the docks. It could fit a dozen or so giants that stood shoulder to shoulder and still have room left over for people to stroll by.

As Razahir and Aela stepped among the people looks of shock and awe that passed among those who recognized him. Even without his armor, it was not hard to guess just who stood among them now. The Harbinger of the Companions was a widely renowned figure and everyone in the providence knew of the 'Giant of Whiterun' that had quickly risen to fame in the Companion order. And with the bonus of the legendary Aela the Huntress at his side, only those who lived under a rock, or were so far out in the boonies would not know who was here now.

'Hail, Harbinger!' and 'The Huntress!' The warriors raised their hands at the crowds, waving at them politely. Razahir let his most diplomatic smile cross his handsome face.

'People of Solitude, it's a pleasure that you all are so welcoming, but you must excuse us. Our companions are wounded, and we need rest, sadly.' He raised his voice slightly to be heard among the crowd. Razahir waited patiently as the crowd took a hard look at him and they immediately parted to allow them to pass. He thanked them generously and they continued up the path.

'And you thought that you had an unfavorable disposition,' Serana whispered. To him, it sounded like she was speaking right into his ear. The smile on his face remained, but he spoke out of the corner of his lips.

'We have not reached the city yet, lass, there's no telling what may happen there.' Razahir stated, making his way up the carefully constructed path. As they reached the intersection, a gentle wind blew down from the mountain. Razahir inhaled deeply tasting the myriad of smells that washed over him; he ignored most of them and settle on the ones that smelt of mountain flowers, the mountain air, and Aela and Serana. For the moment, he felt content and completely at ease.

The path continued onward and he looked over the Sky Tower, Solitude's first line of defense. His gaze traveled back and forth across it, searching for any sort of weaknesses and relaxed as he noted and locked away the information. He paused as he stepped in front of the first, and smaller, gate, looking over the watchtower that was stationed there, compartment all the information and finally – the last obstacle to reach the city – the formidable looking Storm Gate. He stared hard the impassable wall in front of him, looking at the thick, granite walls that expanded into the very mountain and along the sheer cliffs that the city rested on. That would be troublesome if Solitude and Whiterun ever went to war. No possible way fight along the side of the walls unless one wanted to scale the cliff face and take the walls.

'Are you alright, Harbinger?' A gate guard questioned. Razahir snapped out of his thoughts and stared into the blue eyes that peered out from the slits in the man's helmet.

'Yes, thank you for asking,' he answered sincerely. 'Just appreciating the gates of this fine city. I must start to take a few trips here. This place is truly beautiful.'

Both gate guards stiffened at his praise and beamed at him. Thankfully, the gates were open, no doubt wanting no cause for traffic at the gates and he and his companions walked inside unimpeded.

Unlike Whiterun, Solitude only held one district. The Wells District was the main focal point of Solitude, like Whiterun's Plains District. Inns and taverns sat in the main area of the district for travelers, weary merchants, and mercenaries looking for a night of sleep. He and his companions headed off in that direction.

The Winking Skeever dining room was alive with noise and sounds of merrymaking. Razahir ignored the sudden hush as his massive form walked into the inn. A curious look passed over his face, his eyebrow raised in inquiry at the patrons. He made his way deeper into the inn with Isran still slung over his shoulder. 'I'd like a few rooms. Three in one, and two in the other, if that is no problem?'

''Fraid we don't have a room for three people, Harbinger… however, we have a room that can fit quite the number of people.' The innkeeper tilted his head upward at him, taking in his large form. 'Just… try not to break it, yeah?'

While it was not exactly what he wanted, Razahir thanked him and produced a few pieces of gold and silver septims, placing them on the counter. They disappeared from the wooden countertop and the innkeeper, called to a nearby waitress, asking her to guide them to their rooms.

Razahir thanked her, handing her a septim before he strolled into the room. The room was well furnished with a large double bed in the center, a wooden chest at the foot of the bed and end tables flanked the left and right-hand sides. A few torch scones hung in precise locations around the room to give it a well-lit area. A push couch sat one end of the room, flanking a rather small dining table.

He immediately deposited Isran on the left side of the bed, carefully, and Aela set Carcette down next to him. The pair almost looked dead, if not for their slow, shallow breathing.

Razahir sat down on the couch with a sigh feeling his muscles relax as the unknown tension slowly slipped away from him. The couch groaned underneath his weight, but held and did not cave in. Decently crafted then, he thought. Aela slid into the seat next to him, running a hand across his forearm. Serana joined them, sitting on the arm of the couch, looking slightly uncomfortable.

'Relax, vampire,' Aela said without looking in her direction. 'You're as taut as a bowstring; breath, just a bit.'

Razahir watched as the vampire's shoulders slumped slightly, curious as the woman let out an audible sigh. He watched her out the corner of his eye, noting that the vampire glanced this way and that, taking in the room. Her golden-amber eyes flicked quickly over various objects in the room: the small vase on the table next to Carcette, the torch scones around the room and the plush carpet on the floor. A small smirk appeared on his face when the vampire's eyes flicked toward him and Aela for no more than a second before going around the rest of the room.

Taking in a slow, easy breath, the giant leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees, interlocked his fingers together, and rested his chin on the top of his hands. Aela's fingers were running small circles against his arm still and the corner of his lips twitched.

'So, what's the plan now?' Serana's voice broke out at his side. It appeared she had gotten her full of the room and now was curious at their next course of action.

'We will stay here for a few days. It can take a day to make a simple sword but would take too long for armor. I think I can work a deal to get some sort of armor from the local blacksmith. We will also need an apothecary to check in on these two, and buy a few potions to hasten their recovery if anything.' He placed Terminus on the dining table, the massive sword taking up the entire table. He stared at the ruined weapon with a look of sullen contemplation before pulling it toward him. 'We will need the coin to get us where we need to go, and I spent the last of ours in the room.' He frowned deeply before he slowly began to pry the flawless gemstones out of the hilt of the sword. The gems popped free easily, but each time the Harbinger removed it, the glow around the enchanted weapon began to dull before the sword had a small glimmer to it.

'That's some fantastic work.' Serana commented, running a finger across the blade of the weapon. She let out a gasp of surprise when the metal crackled beneath her finger.

'I've enchanted the blade and the gemstones.' He explained, holding the flawless amethyst out to her. The vampire snagged the gem and her eyes widened in surprise.

'Wow, I have not felt something this powerful in quite some time. My father found the most talented enchanters to work on the castle and their work in a shadow in comparison to… this.' She continued to stare at the gem in wonder.

Razahir chuckled, kissing Aela on the cheek. The Huntress waved him off playfully, wiping her cheek off with a look of mock revulsion. 'I have her to thank for that. We were…' He paused thoughtfully, thinking back to the event in question. He recalled it with perfect clarity, but he found that he had been speaking the most to Serana and wanted Aela to tell the small tale. He liked it when she told it.

'Hunting a group of mages down. Dark mages that had broken off from the College of Winterhold. Necromancers searching for quick power, if I recall correctly.' Aela glanced at him and Razahir inclined his head. 'They sought to summon a demon of considerable power and tried to enslave it. They hid out in an old tower deep in the Whiterun hold. We defeated them, of course, and they had quite the number of secrets in that old tower. Razahir pilfered them all and I managed to find a few books on enchanting. I hardly have any sort of magical inclination, so I cannot learn too much, but Razahir took it like a fish to water.' She inclined her head at one of the gemstones that rested in his palm. 'He used one of the souls of the necromancers to fuel the power of that gem.'

Razahir held up the gem, glazing inside the enchanted stone, watching as it swirled with arcane power. He recalled the name of the sorcerer he had slain – Thorgir the Mad – was quite the spellcaster. The necromancer utilized quite the arsenal of spells and his greed and delusions of grandeur lead him off the path of becoming a great sorcerer. The fact that he tried to summon a daedric entity just showed how far he was willing to go. Who knows what he would attempt if he managed to succeed? Razahir had not wanted to find out.

'Fascinating…' Serana muttered, staring into the gemstone.


	19. Kaalys

She landed with a tumble and roll. The maneuver – a incredible display of acrobatics – brought her easily to her feet and she glanced around the area. The old crypt was now silent with the death of the Forsworn savages. Even now, however, she could hear the ones deeper inside the tomb slow begin to stir. She freed both of her short swords belted at her sides and thought about ringing them together, but thought better of it. She needed no intimation and the Forsworn were already fearless of death. Bringing her blades together would serve no cause, only to draw the savages to her like some sort of dinner bell.

Instead, she marched forward silently, breathing slowly into the black scarf that covered the lower part of her mouth. The enchantments woven into the interior of the armor was certainly powerful and once more, she marveled at her assassin gear.

Even with the Dark Brotherhood fallen on such hard times, they still held onto their power. They were still feared and it showed with the way Gaius Maro had met his unfortunate end. The whispers that filled the darkest parts of the tavern that the Dark Brotherhood was on the rise once again, and Kaalys was proud to be an instrument in the revival of the organization.

In the decade that she had joined the elusive group, she had learned a lot about killing people silently. She was a professional at it and every single mark that was sent her way was slain easily and in a rather creative way. The recent addition of Gaius Maro's death had been one of the reasons she was deep in old tomb known as Deepwood Redoubt. A smile came to her face as the pun reached her thoughts before she quickly shook them away.

She had work to do.

There was something hidden in this old barrow and she would find it. After assassinating Gaius Maro in Riften, she had returned to the Sanctuary and had quick conversation with the resident Dunmer assassin, Gabriella, led her first to Whiterun to speak with a seer. The seer then pointed her to Deepwood Redoubt to find the treasure of an assassin of old. Apparently, the assassin had been a former Black Hand of the Skyrim branch of the guild and had amassed quite the fortune before their untimely death. The seer had also spoke of hardship that they would be facing sometime soon and Kaalys would have to keep an eye open just in case. She hated surprises and if such a surprise affected her family… she would bring Oblivion on those who would hurt them.

As she made her way down the hall, a forsworn came running out, his strange sword raised. It was an amalgam of bone and steel and she decided to grab each type of the weapons these savages carried. She was no blacksmith, but she knew a few people who were and who knows what kind of items they had collected over the years to put over their hearth, or in some armory to collect dust over the ages. Either or, it was no concern of hers. All that mattered, the treasure would be hers.

The next was carrying a large battle-axe and she swiftly buried her swords into the woman's chest. The tattooed face had a look of surprise on it before it slackened and she placed the battle-axe into her enchanted bag. She would have to thank Babette and Festus for that later. While they had a resident mage on hand Festus was still mortal and compared to Babette's agelessness she was the one who know the forgotten magic that had not been seen since the Third Era.

More of the savages tried to attack her along the way through the old tomb, but she ended them rather quickly. They were untrained and she was a murderer; an elite assassin that could hold her own against these little savages. She was an Agent of Sithis and could hold her own against these barbarians.

The assassin made her way slowly through the forsworn infested ruin, slaying all that came accosted her. She disabled most, if not all, the traps that stood in her way, tossing their parts into her bag as she went along. She came across a room with sleeping savages and used an alchemical formula Babette had designed.

She still did not understand how the process worked, but the results were… explosive. The container the vampire had created for it as rather simple in appearance, but she knew whatever magical enchantments on the object had made sure it would not explode on her person, or in the confines of her bandolier if she was thrown around. Babette had prepared for it carefully and tailored it around herself as well. How, the ancient vampire had made such a thing possible was interesting and disturbing, especially if it was custom fitted for her own use.

Sometimes that vampire...

The wails of the occupants briefly echoing through the corridor before she firmly shut the door. She briefly wondered if the door would catch fire, but raised her hand a second later. Ice left her fingers and froze the door solid. She hoped that would keep the door wet so the fire would not be able to eat through it.

She reached a locked double door, staring curiously at the sigils that adorned it. Instead of Nedic, they were rather quaint in appearance. She recognized the earthen style of Breton handiwork and tried the door. Of course, it was locked and she looked over the handle on the door. A master level lock at that. She pulled out her lock picking tools and had the door open a second later.

The interior was just a short, damaged corridor with rock piled inside. The path ahead had caved-in and she noticed a glint of metal in the middle of the rubble. She pulled out the hilt and was slightly impressed as she came across the silver sword. She placed it inside of her bag before continuing through a nearby door.

She hopped over the depression in the floor to avoid the large wall of spikes that would be triggered by heavy movement. She hiked a short way upwards and threw open the doors before stomping across the caged walkway, she had noticed when she had first stepped inside the ruin. The corpses of her first kills laid on the floor, shafts sticking out of their chests. They were precise and hand landed with enough force to puncher the savages chests and she smirked as she walked over them. She took pride in her work and decided to leave the arrows inside of them in case someone else came across their bodies later.

She heard the small noise of movement up ahead and crouched down low. She crept forward slowly, her breathing becoming slow and silent. She peaked around the corner, noticing a Forsworn sat in a chair that was facing away from her. She frowned, wondering how the man had managed not to hear anything this far in the tomb. She drew a dagger with a scowl on her face and crept close behind him. A gloved hand across his mouth made sure she was silent and she brutally stabbed her dagger inside the brute's chest. She released the corpse and watched as he slumps against the table. As a parting gift, she stabbed her dagger into his back, and left it inside of him.

Soon, she reached another door that led outside of the ruin and let in a breath of fresh air as she did.

Large evergreen trees surrounded her from all sides and higher above them she could see the vast heights of the fierce Reach mountains that surrounded her. A path led out from the trees and she immediately headed toward it, walking along the snowy pathway. It took her a moment to get her bearings and she realized that the path leads south before branching out eastwards. Underneath a rock archway and she got her first look at Deepwood Vale.

A large fortress dominated most of the area in front of her and she immediately knew it was Nedic. She had stumbled across various ruins like this one in the providence. They were interesting things to stumble across and search around inside for. Treasure, ancient texts, and even a few coins from older eras as well. She had a small collection of the old coins of past rulers and made sure to kept them under tight lock and key in the Sanctuary. They were the few of the objects she cherished from the small horde of important goods she had slowly began to gather.

The Vale was decorated with snow and she could see a pall of smoke rising upwards from the various parts in the camp. Campfires if she had to make an educated guess. And a lot of them. A small frown twisted her features as she stood beneath the crumbled arch way. That was certainly a problem. While she could probably assassinate every single Forsworn in this camp, the fact of the matter was that they had numbers on their side and the possibility of an alert sounding was too grand.

An idea blossomed into her head and she raised her hand. Violet energy surrounded her hand and a grin formed on her face as she remembered the gift Astrid had given to her after her assassination of the Emperor's cousin, Vittoria Vici. She released the spell and a purple portal of energy appeared in front of her.

From the inside of the portal stepped out a ghostly apparition. The ghost was a rather simple, none threatening figure, wearing the robes of a Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood of old. A slow, almost warm, smile crossed his face as he took her in.

'Sister, you have allowed me to see the light of Nirn once again; what is your bidding?' The specter of Lucien Lachance asked as he arrived.

She waved her hand in the general direction of the barrow in front of them. 'Souls that are due to the Void, brother. They're barbarians, but I am sure that Sithis will not mind them.'

'You would be correct,' he chastised her lightly. 'Our Father is the only one who will judge them.' He gave the area a look over, a small frown passing over his face. 'This place seems familiar. Where are we, sister?'

'Deepwood Redoubt – basically at the border between Haafingar and the Reach,' she answered. Sometimes she forgot that the spectral assassin that was with her had journeyed to Skyrim before. 'Do you recall this place, Lucian?'

'Yes, yes, I do.' A small frown touched his lips. 'As matter of fact there was this old assassin who had buried their treasure out here. I've been in the Void for a long time and the spirits of slain assassins would speak to me. When the Thalmor decided to start razing the Sanctuaries all around Tamriel these assassins would take the priceless artifacts sanctuaries through all Nirn would gather them and hide them away. How did you manage to find this?'

'An old seer mentioned it, Speaker,' she answered, her amber eyes brightening. The thought of finding hidden lore from the Sanctuaries of old was a new benefit for her. The assassins treasure was sounding like a worthwhile investment. Old lore gathered from a time before the Great War? That sounded like a worthy investment.

'I hope you paid her well enough, Listener. If she sent you here, she deserves a large coin purse for such an act.'

Kaalys frowned thoughtfully at that, recalling the brooch that she had handed over to the old seer. She would have to make a side trip to Whiterun on her way back from this place then.

'I will make sure she's paid enough then, Speaker, I did not know I had stumbled across such a find.'

The specter let a small grin cross his face as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was composed and ready. 'I assumed that you called me here for a reason?'

'Yes, we have a few souls to send to the Void, brother.' She waved her hand at the large camp in front of her. Although, she was starting to think this as more of a settlement than anything. This place could rival a city if she was basing it on the size of the Vale. She, briefly, wondered if she would be sent to the Void today, but quickly shook that thought from her head. With Lucien at her side, that should not be possible. She hoped.

'Sithis will be pleased at this harvest, Listener. This place is filled of soul sparks. How do you want to do this? The straight approach, or stealth?'

'Stealth, of course, dear Speaker. As much as I want to see the Dread Father, I am sure he can wait just a bit longer to see me.'

Lucien's otherworldly eyes looked through her and she shivered at the dark knowledge inside of the specters gaze. 'You're right about that, Listener, you still have work to do on Nirn.' He stated before he turned away from her and began to march off, following the path of a small stream.

She darted after him and the path took them around the outskirts of the Foresworn base. She was slightly surprised that this river had not frozen over. With all this snow and the chill in the air, it was marvelous that it continued to flow. The path Lucien brought her down lead to the base of a ruined watchtower, which was currently unmanned. The wood elf tilted her head at tower itself. It was the husk of an old structure, worn away by Akatosh. No sentry was posted at the top of the tower, so she cautiously followed Lucian before he stepped through the wall of the tower.

She muttered a curse. She hated when he did that.

The Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood of the Third Era had the unwelcoming habit of walking through things instead of using the doors like a normal person. Sometimes he even ran off into a solid object and would not reappear for ages before suddenly creeping up on her. She had almost cut down the specter multiple times, managing to keep her enchanted steel from destroying him. The haunting laughter of the specter showed just how amused he was by such actions.

'You really have to stay on your toes, Listener. It's a surprise that you haven't joined me in the Void.' He jested.

'I will go there when I am ready, and not a day before.' She stated, tightening her grip on the short sword. She really wished she could stab Lucien with it. The specter had the annoying habit of easily peeling apart her confidence with his barbed words. His talk of Sithis and the Night Mother welcoming her often made an icy chill crawl across her back: she had a lot more to do before she even thought of falling to someone else's blade. She wanted to enjoy her mortal vessel for as long as she could before she fell and joined LaChance in his spectral state. 'You know this, brother. Sithis can wait for me, just as he did you.'

The specter's face remained impassive and if her words bothered him, he gave no sign. Instead, he opted to remain silent.

'Well?' she snapped. 'What did you see, brother?'

The ghost of Lucien LaChance scoffed. 'Barbarians by the number and a few of those bird-women as well. It'll be quite the fight, Listener.'

'We've succeeded against such odds before, Speaker. We have gone against the finest, the Emperor of Cyrodiil has the offer… I do not see how a few plebeians can hold against us.'

'Never under estimate your prey, sister. Sometimes, even those you believe are weaker than you, can – by the Void, will – come together to defeat you. Remember that.'

Instead of answering that, Kaalys sheathed her swords and pulled the bow from across her back. She thought over the Speaker's words, thinking over them slowly. She shook her head, slowly. Lucien's Brotherhood was entirely different than her own. Thiers was a family, while his were some old cult from a desiccated age. That would never happen to her Family. Astrid would never let that happen.

She took careful aim and release her bow. The arrowhead found purchase in the neck of a Forsworn native, and blood squirted from the wound. She already notched another and fired, this one finding its place in another of the raiders, chest. Another shaft appeared and the Forsworn fell to the ground with a grunt. It took an unreal amount of time to fire her arrows and the Forsworn were alarmed to her presence soon enough. The bestial cry of one of the savages broke out from across the Vale and the barbarians made their way slowly toward her location.

'LaChance.' She stated, and the specter dissipated into the ether and rematerialized at the base of the tower, spectral sword in hand. From her careful eye, none of the savages appeared to have any sort of weapon – enchanted, or silver – to combat the shadow of the great assassin, and she knew that he had a fighting chance of surviving the blades of his opponents without any sort of injury. She looked at the base of her perch, just in case, and saw the ghost sending his enemies to the Void in a series of quick, sure attacks, sword lashing back and forth among the raiders. She inclined her head and fired arrowing into the on-rushing foe, just to give him a bit of breathing room.

When her quiver ran dry, she sheathed her bow and moved to her magical talents. They weren't the strongest, but Babette and Festus had hammered in enough of their teachings into her to make sure that she was no push over when it came to utilize her magical potential. Arcane words came to her lips as she summoned a fireball into both of her glove covered hands and then sent it down into the group of Forsworn.

The resulting blast sent the brutes reeling and scattered their broken bodies across the snow-covered ground. Few remained on fire, screaming as the skin melted off their bodies and running into their fellows. A grim smile passed over her face as the smell of burning flesh touched her nose. As she began to cast another spell, she grunted as an arrow dug into her shoulder. She grunted from the force of it almost falling backward in her surprise. She was lucky that it landed in the meat tissue of her shoulder, instead of the joint itself. Her eyes scanned the immediate area, searching for the archer and she quickly picked the man up.

He stood in on a ledge, the amalgam of bone and wood that made up his bow, in hand. He was drawing another arrow from the bone quiver along his back and notched it. She never gave him the chance to fire. She tapped into the weavings of another spell that Festus had taught her. The mage hand an arsenal of spells, and even though he favored his fire-based attacks, he had given her his understanding of the destructive force of lightning. She used her knowledge now.

She felt the power of a storm rise inside of her and straightened the index and middle finger of her left hand. Static electricity gathered at her fingertips and she raised her two fingers. A bolt of lightning forked its way through the air, covering the distance of her and the archer in a few heartbeats. The Forsworn seized up as the lighting fried its way through his veins, and she sent another bolt just to make sure that the brute stayed down.

She let out a gasp and fell to her knees. The magicka drain on her quickly stumbling its way inside of her chest. She could cast a Candlelight spell easily, but when it came to spells like Lighting and Fireball, they always had the effect of draining her, especially when she used such high-level spells. Babette and Festus had hammered the danger of using such spells into her head, but she had always used them just to prove the two mages wrong. She would succeed at using those same spells eventually. Oblivion, she was still trying to learn how to conserve her magic, instead of using it all in one go. Wariness and fatigue always settled in her veins after some spells, but slowly – over time – the spells began to get easier and easier. Practice made perfect.

She knew her magicka would start taking a hold of her physically health if she continued to use it, she decided not to use it. Instead, she decided to help LaChance on the ground. She pulled her twin swords free from their crossed position on her back as she marched her way down the tower. She twirled them around herself once, the action a habit to her at this point. It was a check just to make sure she was ready for battle and had stuck with her ever since she joined the Dark Brotherhood. She paused in front of the door, cracking her neck and loosing the tension that she felt in herself. Rolling her shoulders, she let out slow breath and opened the door into a battle. The transition of her from peace into battle came smoothly and she hacked down her first enemy with twin, diagonal slashed of her blade across the Forsworns chest.

LaChance said nothing as she joined him in battle. The only time the menace showed acknowledgement of her presence was the kick one of the Reachman into her direction, which she quickly cut down, her twin blades whistling through the air.

She and LaChance fought side by side as they decimated the Forsworn barbarians. LaChance was a scything presence on the battlefield, while she was the grim harvester. Those who did not fall to the scythe, fell to the harvester of battle. They worked in perfect conjecture, LaChance executing brutal, swift blows that left the Forsworn stumbling and flailing around, while she made sure that the only time they realized their mistake was a heartbeat before they fell.

Kaalys stabbed her blade into the heart of one of the savages that tried to slash down Lucien's ethereal back. She knew that the blade would probably have no effect on the man, but this was an ally, not some invulnerable spirit. He second blade rose up with a mind of its own and cut through the throat of her victim, spraying blood across her face. She spat out the familiar liquid and hacked down another of the wildmen with her sword buried in her chest. She flicked the blades around herself, sending blood and heads scattering around her.

Her mind became mindless to the slaughter around her, blanking out the kills from the camp around her. She slashed and Forsworn died, her blades making quick and easy work of the savages around her. When she came back to herself, she stabbed one of the wildmen in his throat pulling her blade free slowly. Her other arm came up and her blade slashed through his throat, sending his head rolling into the nearby snowbank.

When no one else tried to attack her, she let out a slow sigh, the deadly grip on her swords continuing to be held even as the battle ended around her. She watched as LaChance executed at Forsworn with a sword thrust into her chest and pulled it out slowly, savoring as the life left the woman's eyes. The murderer of old glanced around the battlefield, taking in the sight of all the dead bodies around them.

'Sithis will be pleased of the ending of such souls.'

'I hope so, they were quite the foe.'

'Agreed, Listener, but you still have work to do.'

'Aye,' Kaalys muttered, she still had to look for the assassin's treasure.

'My time without the Void, Listener, beckons… will you need for me to do anything else?'

She shook her head, surveying the corpses around her. 'That will be enough, Speaker. I should be able to handle whatever the rest of this place has to offer me.'

The former Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood showed no acknowledgement of being dismissed and dissolved into a bright thing of ethereal energy. Kaalys regarded the space that he inhabited for a moment, before she sheathed her blades and marching her way to the large building that held the assassin of old.

Hello, all!

I have decided to introduce other characters to this whole entire thing and I know that it's going to be quite the massive undertaking. At first, I had decided to include only a few characters in this tale, but I realized that my addiction to Skyrim just would not let me do so.

Skyrim is a massive undertaking and I probably should have started with this entire series with the beginning of every other character's backstory (Thieves Guild, Companions and Dawnguard, Dark Brotherhood, Vampire, and Dragonborn, Main Quest, and Civil War) with their starting quests, but I decided to leave some unfinished while others are ongoing just give myself a test to see if I can give all these characters a challenge in dealing with all these sorts of things while finishing the story. Hopefully I can finish such a story without it all being overwhelmed.

I decided to now answer those who have given guest reviews and regular reviews since people have asked and to give all you a chance to be open with me. Here we go:

Guest: I hope to give Ulfric some sort personality since his troops give him a bad name and to establish that while he is a great leader, he still has problems dealing with his subordinates. 'Stormyucky' is a rather biased comment. How would you rule an entire state/providence when you're a young man who has a lot on his plate to try and rule a large population (take in the fact that my Skyrim is a lot bigger than Bethesda's Skyrim for such a game scape and while majority of your followers have opinions that are vastly different from those who can rule)? I love hearing other opinions and just like Zharic (who's this story is kinda based on) I critic things heavily when I approve of them.

TheLegendaryBlackDragon: I have told you multiple times on why your character are bad and should be recycled and become better. You – yourself – have ended whatever talks we could have had by blocking me and removing such an option. You continue to leave 'scathing' (I use the term loosely) reviews on my stories which I will gladly explain myself again. Even with your remakes, and, again, that is the definition of unoriginal. Calling something from another source is copyright no matter what you think of it and that is why I name it unoriginal and needs improvement because it is taking from others when you list things that you have to name from other series as 'unoriginal' or base it on their designs.

I will, gladly, take this to the PM's once again, and continue our discussions in PM format because I would rather not throw all out conversations into this story and all that jazz in my own fanfiction. From here on out, I will ignore all your attempts a 'bashing' my stories and block you when it gets to that point. Thank you and have a good one.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen for reading and viewing this tale, and I hope you all do approve of the changes that I will make (the Title and how there are multiple POVs in this tale)

I will tell you all now, however, some are gonna be 'filler' and others will add to the story that continues to the story cause I am still under the impression that as big as Skyrim is (the entirety of the Elder Scrolls) it would still take multiple people to accomplish all they can even with the Dragonborn being such a large person.


	20. The Barrow

Valeka stood close to Lydia as the draugr approached them. She held her axe and mace up and ready, fingers curled around the hilt of her weapons. At her side, Lydia raised the enchanted great sword higher, a small frown on her face. If they made any sort of mistake, they would be overwhelmed by the draugr and probably be killed.

She frowned deeply at that. The Last Dragonborn would not meet such an end: especially in a place such as this. She stepped in and swung low, her axe flashing through the air between her and the draugr. The draugr let out a sluggish moan as it fell, and she quickly bashed its head in with her mace, sending desiccated flesh and bone matter everywhere.

At her side, Lydia stepped forward and hacked down two of the undead with powerful blows. The enchanted greatsword cut through the pair easily and already she was moving on to another of the remnant undead.

Valeka grunted as a mace head slammed into her side, her armor taking most of the blow, but still caused her pain. She let out a painful breath of air and wildly attacked the subsequent draugr that tried to attack her. The haft of her mace shielded her from a heavy blow, shaking her arms, and she tightened her grip on the shaft making sure it would not slip from her hands and responded by an attack. Her axe flashed through the neck of the undead, sending its head spinning through the air. She inhaled at the end of her attack, summoning words of power

'FOS RO DAH!' the word erupted from her mouth, sending the group of undead in front of her reeling. Lydia jumped among them like a sabre cat, hacking and slashing in a semi-circle around her. When the last fell she pulled back, backing away from the floating draugr until she stood next to her.

The floating draugr stared at them with bright glowing eyes beneath the sinister looking hood it wore. Four, hulking brutes of undead Nords surrounded the former Nedic lord. The staff in its hand glowed, the gemstones blazing with arcane energy. The undead raised it in their direction and fired a ball of fire at them.

Valeka rolled to the left while Lydia rolled to the right. She came up swinging into the death lord, her mace smashing into its knee. The revenant appeared unconcerned with her attack, gazing down at her with its eerie gaze. It let out a choking rasp and swung down at her with its greatsword. She rolled aside, quickly, the blade slamming into the ground behind her, splitting it asunder. She was thankful that was not her. No doubt, that blow would have cleaved her in two. Her axe lashed out instead, the enchanted steel whistling through the air. Unlike the flanged steel of her mace, the axe hacked its way deep into the grey-black flesh of the Draugr's knee. The undead creature reeled, collapsing under the ruin that made up its knee. The creature still tried to attack her, but she danced behind it, her axe reaping a harvest. The head spun in the air as the body slumped to the ground.

She had no time to enjoy her small victory. A blow at her side sent her falling forwards, pain flaring along her side. She let out a cry of pain, rolling sideways. She crashed along floor, sliding on the dusty ground. She coughed in pain, feeling blood touch her lips. Recalling the threat that was nearby, she quickly climbed to her hands and knees, glancing behind her.

Her new foe had a massive mace and hurled it down at her. Before, she could even raise her weapon to block, guard, or do anything for that matter, a thick bladed sword intercepted the blow. Her eyes widened in surprise as the crossed weapons were held only a few inches from the front of her face.

Grunting with effort, Lydia held off the attack with a small groan of effort. Armored forearms shaking to hold off the unnatural strength of the draugr. The Nord stepped in close and with a yell and a surge of pure adrenal augmented strength, she lifted the mace head with a shout. The draugr stumbled backward, mace flying from its hand, dropping into the nearby pool of water with a splash. Lydia swung the enchanted sword around herself once and brought the sword through the ragged breastplate of the warrior.

She stepped fully in front of her, using her armored bulk as a stalwart shield against the pair of undead warriors that slowly approached them. The undead priest floated behind the approaching warriors, staring at them with its sinister blue-white eyes.

Valeka reached into the satchel at her side, opening it and digging around inside of it. The first pair of the wraiths reached them, this one carrying a heavy bladed broadsword in one hand and a sturdy looking steel rimmed shield in its off hand. That did not concern Lydia. The Nord noble was breathing heavily, working herself into some sort of frenzy.

The wight slashed with the heavy sword, lashing out at Lydia's breastplate. She used her sword as a battering ram, the enchanted blade notching the blade of the sword. She kept shoulder rushed the wight, smooth pauldron slamming into the chest of the undead. She swung her greatsword around in a semi-circle of power. Shield and arm fell to the ground and soon the torso of the draugr slumped to the floor. She stomped its face in, armor covered foot caving in the face of the monster.

'Now would be a good time to get on your feet, Dragonborn!' Lydia shouted, as she rushed the last of the guard.

Valeka had already swallowed the potion. Rejuvenating energy coursed along her body and the pain at her side disappeared, turning into a dull ache before disappearing entirely. She sighed, thanking Elaninde for the healing potion as she groped for the shaft of her weapon. She found the hilt of both of her weapons and pushed herself up with the flanged head of the mace. When she fully stood, Lydia was already engaged with the last bodyguard.

Her greatsword met the draugr's greatsword for each blow, their blades singing as sparks flashed from their strikes. The pair were evenly matched, dancing back and forth in front of the draugr that still refused to move. Valeka joined the noble, teaming up against the creature. They made quick work of it. Lydia caught the monster in a blade lock and Valeka came at its side, axe and mace crunching into the side of the draugr. The witch light left its eye sockets and it slumped over.

Lydia and Valeka warily approached the last of the draugr, weapons held at the ready.

The draugr tilted its head at them, regarding them thoughtfully. Then it raised its staff. The gemstones on its eyes glowed and the maw of the dragon erupted, a screaming stream of fire heading in their direction. They split once again; one rolling to the right, the other to the left. They both ran up the sides of the walkway, kissing the edge of the water. The heat from the flames kissed her skin and sweat immediately formed from her brow. Valeka glanced inside the pool of water, searching for any sign of Elaninde, but the water was dark and murky, and nothing could be seen in their black depths. She felt sadness run through her. She turned that emotion in anger and honed it on the monster that caused her death.

She slid over the casket that impeded her path, and forward rolled to avoid a lighting bolt that the draugr sent at her. She came up once again and the flames disappeared at her side. Lydia was pounding at her side, her armor clanking around her as she held her sword in a two-handed sideways grip. The tip of the blade occasionally bumped against the floor, sending up small clouds of dirt.

They converged on the draugr as one, Lydia's sword hacking downwards and her axe and mace going upwards. The draugr took its staff in a two-handed grip and interceded both of their attacks, catching them on each end of their attacks. Sparks lashed out at the contact and Valeka marveled at the faintly dim glow that surrounded the staff. She bared her teeth in a frustrated snarl and then had to duck aside as the maw of the dragon was pointed at her face and the eye stones glowed. Heat licked at her face, heating her skin and searing her hair as well as the fireball passed within centimeters of her face.

She pulled back, lashing out with her foot. The kick sent the draugr backwards and it hissed some guttural language at her. The monster floated away and then came back, bashing at her with its staff. Lydia stepped in close, massive sword clanging against the strike. Valeka came around her left side, mace flashing at the monster's arm. It took its hand off the staff, holding off Lydia's strike one handed. A shimmering field energy appeared in front of its palm and her mace strike froze. Her axe came in next and the bubble of energy managed to hold her enchanted steel at bay.

The floating monster let out a hissing crackle, fey eyes glinting. It twisted its wrist and the butt of the staff came up and cracked against Lydia's breastplate. As the staff connected, it blasted the warrior back sending her through the air. Lydia struck the ground in a heavy crash of armor, sliding along the floor. Valeka had no time to see if she was okay. The draugr sent a bolt of lighting at her face from its free hand.

She stepped to the side, the electricity frizzing up her hair as it flew past the side of her head. She swung the mace out and cracked against the thing's staff. The came up as well, cracking against the top side of the staff, trying to keep the dragon head away from her face. She and the undead wight glared at each other from across their crossed weapons and Valeka grinned.

'Fus… RO DOH!' The shout erupted from her lips with pure force and sent the undead thing reeling backwards. It flailed around through the air before crashing onto the ground. She chased after it like a madwoman, wanting to down the creature as quickly as possible. She raised her axe and mace, swinging them down at the undead thing.

It raised its hand, a blast of energy erupting from its forward-facing palm. She flew backwards and crashed into the ground and bruising her recently healed ribs. An armored form stepped next to her, Lydia grimacing down at her, greatsword in hand.

'Need a hand?' She held out her armored hand. Valeka took it, gratefully, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She let out a small wince as her ribs protested such a motion but put it into the back of her mind. She was made of sterner stuff and would have to ignore the small wounds and hurts she received from whatever thing she faced.

'What is this thing exactly?' Valeka asked as the monster pushed itself back to its feet and began to float in the air once again. It flew from the top of the staircase in front of them.

'Dragon Priest,' Lydia said, taking her sword in a two-handed grip once again. 'Once they were the strongest members in the Dragon Cults, but now they're undead and hidden in the most well defended temples dedicated to the Dragon Cult.' She let out a small puff of air. 'They were the lords during the Dragon Wars, given a piece of a dragon's immortality at the cost of their own souls, or so the rumors say. Father thinks that they were granted immorality due to the mass sacrifice of their followers and became undead liches by result. Who knows what is true and myth at this point?'

'They are strong.' Valeka agreed. The Dragon Priest stared at them, the top of its staff crackling with arcane power. 'Perhaps, going through this place was a mistake. Elaninde is gone and its just us left to deal with this thing.'

'You are Dragonborn. If this thing manages to some how overcome us, just what can you do against a dragon?'

'Fair point. I had help with that overgrown lizard. But against a single, powerful foe and it all falls apart.' Valeka stated.

'Perhaps you will need help again?' Lydia commented.

'You and I?' Valeka asked. Lydia nodded. 'We tried that already and the result was with you being knocked backwards if I remember correctly and me soon afterwards.'

'Fair, but at least we have some sort of idea on how that staff works now. Stay away from it – Oblivion, even breaking the blasted thing – could give us an advantage.'

'Very well, let's try it that way. Together then?'

Lydia let out a noise of agreement and the pair moved toward the priest as one. They both approached it slowly, making careful movements against monster. As they approached the undead monster, a splash and the gasping of breath could be heard at the right side of the submerged temple.

Elaninde appeared, panting heavily as she broke the surface of the murky water. The elfin mage placed most of her upper body on the lip of the walkway, breathing heavily. The mage had a snarl of fury on her ethereal features.

'Die, creature!' The mage spat out in contempt. One of her hands came up and lighting began to spark along the finger tips of her right hand. A current of electricity surged from her fingers, striking at the undead priest. The priest held up its staff to block most of the magical lighting with its shield.

Lydia and Valeka were already moving in concert with each other. Valeka had to over come the brief obstacle that made up Elaninde's lighting, ducking under it quickly, but she and Lydia reached the Dragon Priest within second of each other.

Lydia struck high with the massive sword, while Valeka struck in the monster's midsection and lower with her mace and axe, respectively. With the lich distracted and unable to throw up a shield, the pair attacked it on both sides. Lydia's sword cleaved through half of the monster's ugly face as her axe and mace found purchase in its chest and lower body. The draugr let out a screech through the ruin of its mouth as it fell. Valeka sliced its head off with her axe and tossed in into the pool of water nearby, just to make sure it stayed dead.

'A little bit of help, if you please?' Elaninde gasped out. They immediately pulled their companion out of the murky depths, depositing her on her back.

'How in Oblivion did you survive being underwater for so long?' Lydia questioned as the Altmer panted for breath.

Instead of answering, she held up her hand and curled it into a fist, holding up her pinky finger. A golden ring with a small amethyst gemstone set in it and inlaid with swirling lines along the band. 'Water breathing enchantment and a regeneration spell. My father gave it too me ages ago after I almost drowned once. Never leave home without it.' She let out a weak chuckle, her arm slumping back to the ground. 'Although… I think it may be a bit fickle now. By time I woke up, I panicked and started inhaling the water like any normal person does when they're drowning.

'Luckily, the magic in the ring worked at time and, well, here I am.'

Valeka looked in Lydia's direction, and Lydia looked in hers. As one, they shook their heads and sat down heavily next to the Altmer.

* * *

Valeka had few quiet words with the innkeeper. Wilhelm looked rather surprised at the tale she shared with him. Valeka made sure to give the innkeeper a few of the gemstones they had collected from the barrow, thanking him, and quickly leaving before he could start to protest. Luckily, the business was in full swing and he had to deal with others crowding around him for a drink and she did not even have to sneak away from him.

On the porch, she let out a sigh of relief, feeling a gentle wind blow along her cheeks and through her hair. Now that nasty business with the haunting was finished, she could finally head down back to Whiterun with Lydia and Elaninde in tow.

 _Whiterun_ … she let out another sigh. She missed the city. It was almost three weeks until she had last seen the city and a month and a half for her being proclaimed Dragonborn. Where had all the time gone? She wondered.

She remembered waking up in Skyrim; a captive of the Imperials along with the Stormcloaks. Then the dragon had come and Ulfric had slain it, and then the resulting escape into the Keep along with Ralof and Lokir the small gang of Stormcloaks that they came across. She frowned, thoughtfully, and reached for her pack. She marveled as her entire forearm practically disappeared into the bag and quickly ruffled through it, thinking of the item in question. When her fingers wrapped around a thin rope, she pulled the item out.

It was the necklace of the dead mage they had come across in the torture chamber. She held up the chain in front of her, staring at the triangular shaped amulet. What was it again? The sigil of Jhunal? She racked her mind back to when she lived in Dragonsreach… being groomed to become the Thane of Whiterun and learning everything she could about the city she would serve. She focused on the books she read on the Old Faith that had been a large part of Skyrim until the Imperials had come along and removed, or twisted, the old lore.

Jhunal had been the Nordic God of hermetic orders and knowledge. A strange Aedra for the Nedic people to worship since her people were a war-like race. Book knowledge had no real place when it came to fights to the death when you only had the steel in your hands and battle instinct to keep one on their toes. Valeka shook her head. She was getting off track.

There was something else about the symbol, and she peered at it intently, her usually sharp mind searching for what she needed to remember. She pursed her lips, vivid blue eyes staring into the center of the triangle.

'I am surprised you're carrying around such a thing.' Lydia's voice carried through the mid-morning air. The heavily armored warrior came up to her from the road that cut through the village. Her armor had been recently polished and shined brilliantly from the sun. The hilt of the massive sword rested in its harness around her right shoulder.

'You recognize it?' Valeka asked.

She made a grunt of acknowledgement. 'Necklace of Jhunal; the mages that worship the Old Faith and the Imperial fate carry one of those things around. From what I heard, neither one looks down the other unless you're obvious in your worship of the Imperial Cult. With that, you should be able to get into the mages College easily enough, just do not mention how you acquired it. Only the colleges give them away and those are mages that have at least graduated their first semester.'

Valeka inclined her head and slipped the necklace back into her bag. She wondered if she would ever use it at some point and hoped that she would. Magic was slowly starting to interest her; Elaninde throwing around spells that had devastating effects and was, rather, awe-inspiring too watch. Even after being knocked unconscious and tossed aside, the mage had returned and still unleashed a rather devastating attack to stop that Dragon Priest.

She recalled the smell of ozone and power that crackled along her skin and had rippled through air before as the creature was attacked. When she and Lydia had hacked it down, it truly had been quite the experience.

She frowned thoughtfully, looking at Lydia.

'I've never asked this, but why have you decided to join me Lydia?' She asked, resting her hands on the railing of the porch as she held her gaze. 'We've traveled together for almost a month, and yet I know very little about you: You're the Jarl's daughter, a great warrior, loyal to a fault, and a perfect guide. You could have stayed in Whiterun with your father and eventually gained status as a great warrior, or even received the crown? Why come with me?'

'You're the Dragonborn.' Lydia stated.

Valeka shook her head, a grin on her face. 'I got that part. I remember all the people who lined up to come with me on this journey, Lydia. Your father nearly had to triple the guard when they had tried to camp at Dragonsreach. Luckily, I had already known who I would choose when it came to a guide. Actually, you would make a great huscarl as well.'

Lydia looked at her in surprise.

Valeka smirked in her direction. 'This is going to sound rather creepy, but I have been watching you, Lydia Balgruffsdottir: your father mentioned that you are a great warrior and even your comrade-in-arms mention it as well… although they're rather tightlipped about it. The Harbinger himself seems to think you're rather talented because he did want you to join the Companions, but your father put a stop to that.' Steel reached her eyes, and her voice sounded rather thunderous to her ears. 'Now, Lydia, besides the generic answer, why did you decide to come with me?'

Lydia worked her jaw searching for something to say.

Valeka gave her the time she needed to think on her thoughts. This thought had plagued her the entire time they had been up at High Hrothgar, and the Greybeards had been no help to her because they were so far away from civilization and the plight of mortal affairs for ages now. They were too abstract from the people below them and focused on the Way of the Voice. She hoped to change that sooner rather than later. She had developed a mass of ideas during her time up at High Hrothgar when the Greybeards had slowly begun to reveal what Dragonborn individuals could accomplish with just their Voice.

Some became hermits; living out their lives on the fringes of society or taking the mantle of Grandmaster of the Greybeards and living in seclusion like Jurgan Windcaller while others became great warrior-kings such as Talos of Atmora, allowing their ambition shape out the world itself. Before Valeka could think more on that, Lydia finally found her voice:

'I decided to join you because I want adventure! I do not want to spend the rest of my days, sitting around on my haunches and doing nothing: I want to experience the world: visit the entirety of Tamriel, journey through ancient catacombs, and old ruins that adventures would hardly glance at twice. I want to die at the end of a sword, or even magic: instead of meeting my end at the end of old age, or one too many sweetrolls. I cannot give you larger answer than that, but that's how I want to reach the end of my days, not with food in hand, or the heaviness of a crown like my father and siblings, but with a sword in hand.' The noblewoman spoke passionately and with a fire that could rival a dragon.

Valeka was surprised by the passion the woman spoke with, surprised how much of it existed. The various people she had asked and questioned during her two weeks stay in Dragonsreach had only hinted at Lydia's conviction. Now that she was seeing it, she approved of it heavily. The core of Lydia was a molten thing, volatile, but controlled when it needed to be. Mentally, she nodded her head.

'Excellent…' Valeka said a smile on her face. She walked down the steps of the patio, her booted clattering along the way down. She stood in front of Lydia and slowly held out her hand. The noble clasped it with her own strong grip. 'Let's hurry back to Whiterun. Its been a while since we've been home.'

Lydia nodded her head silently. And dropped her hand before turning away from her. Valeka stepped next to her as they made their way down the path. As they reached the edge of the village they saw Elaninde, sitting on a stone with her hand up and a ball of fire was dancing around her entire palm. The ball came to a sudden stop as she noticed them, and she closed her fist to make it disappear.

'Hello, dears,' she greeted with her trademark smile. 'About time you arrived – I assume your business with the innkeeper is finished?'

'Yes, he was definitely surprised by just what we found inside the tomb. Hopefully, that will be the last of their troubles.'

'Who knows when it comes to draugr. So where are we going to next?'

'Whiterun,' Valeka stated. 'It's been a month since we were in the city and I have some business to take care of with Jarl Balgruuf. Hopefully, he's found a suitable huscarl as well; it would be a shame for him not to, but then again the people of Whiterun have been rather unruly lately.'

Lydia grimaced at that.

Valeka, briefly, wondered what the young woman was thinking before she ignored it. There really was no need. If she was in that situation, she probably would have the same twisting expression on her own face when it came to her family being in danger. Lydia was strong and could hold her own against the rabble of Whiterun citizens, but even so, one person could be overwhelmed by the mob mentality of bloodthirsty rioters.

'It will be fine.' Lydia spoke up. There was a hidden edge to the young woman's voice. Hard, and lined with steel. 'Let's return as soon as we can. Shall we start heading back?' Lydia did not bother waiting for an answer. She – simply – tightened the straps on her backpack and made her way down the path.

'You do not think anything happened while we have been away?' Valeka questioned once the noblewoman had disappeared down the road.

'Honestly, I have no idea. When it comes to the mind set of the common rabble, it's hard to tell what they are thinking. Most are sheep that just try to find the strongest voice to follow while others just want to cause problems. 'She looked down the road and stepped closer to Valeka. 'You remember the spell book Razahir gave me?' Valeka nodded. 'I sent it off to the College with a… friend of mine.' She reached into her bag and produced a small piece of parchment. 'I decided not to deliver it in person, but the College did say they were sending a few of the recent graduates of Alteration to Whiterun. That was a few weeks ago, so I am not even sure if they managed to get there.'

Valeka's eyes went down the road as well, a small frown decorating her features and she said: 'Looks like we will find out, huh?'

Elaninde inclined her head.


End file.
